


It's the purest element (but it's so volatile)

by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl



Series: Come Back for You [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ciri gets 3 parents, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, F/M, Found Family, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg are in Cahoots, Other, Post-Season/Series 01, Yenneskier to Geraskifer, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 43,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl/pseuds/That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl
Summary: After the Battle of Sodden Hill, Yennefer comes to in a tavern with no memory of how she got there, no idea where she is, and no friendly faces in sight. But there is one familiar face; could Jaskier be exactly who she needs right now?And what happens when, after traveling together and really getting to know each other, they run into a certain witcher they haven't seen since a certain mountaintop, and he's on the run from Nilfgaard with his child surprise?
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Come Back for You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784959
Comments: 240
Kudos: 298





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This one has been a lot of fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy it too! The title comes from the Florence and the Machine song "Strangeness and Charm" because that's what was stuck in my head when I was trying to think of title and it fits, so I didn't question the odd workings of my muse. Anyways, this is mostly done so you can count on regular updates. Now on to the fic!

Yennefer wasn’t entirely sure what had happened after the Battle of Sodden Hill. She remembered unleashing her chaos and bottled emotions in a torrent of flame, and then… It went black.

The next thing she remembered was being in a tavern, sitting at a table. No one seemed to be noticing her, which was unusual for the amount of attention she usually drew. Still, it could be good. She’d drained so much energy in the battle, and she had no idea where she was. If she was in Nilfgaardian territory, they probably wouldn’t take to kindly to a mage who decimated their forces. And if she didn’t have the energy to defend herself…

Yennefer looked around, taking stock of her surroundings while mentally taking stock of herself. She seemed mostly unharmed, or at least didn’t have any injuries besides what she remembered getting, but she was definitely drained. The injuries she’d gotten didn’t feel too bad either. But there was nothing familiar where she was, no indications of where she might be, no friendly faces.

But one unfortunately familiar face. Yennefer groaned; he wouldn’t be happy to see her. She wasn’t happy to see him. But while he would be upset, she doubted he’d sell her out to Nilfgaard. He was loyal, if nothing else. She crossed the tavern, sitting across from him. “Jaskier.”

He looked up in surprise, his slow movements giving away just how drunk he was. “Oh, no.” He almost stood up, but stopped himself. “Have I gotten drunk enough to start imagining new torments for myself?”

“Unless your ale was drugged, no.” Yennefer crossed her arms. “Look, I’d rather not be here talking to Geralt’s bard—”

“No.” He held up a wobbly finger, and anger shone through the haze in his eyes. “Not Geralt’s anything. He made that abundantly clear.” Jaskier took another long drink. “Spent my whole adult life following him, and over twenty years in he wouldn’t even call me a friend. Just a,” he hiccupped, “annoyance.”

This was not ideal. Yennefer spent a moment wondering if she should just search for information elsewhere, but she was invested now. “Fuck Geralt. If he wants to go around destroying his own life and alternating between tying people to him and shoving them away, let him deal with the fallout. Don’t let other people be your problem.”

“Yeah!” Jaskier raised his drink, then eyed her with suspicion. “Wait, you’re why Geralt got all upset and shouted at me. Why should I listen to you?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Geralt not handling his emotions well is his problem, not either of ours.”

“Witchers don’t have emotions.” There was a definite mocking element to his tone, then Jaskier sneered. “Sure seemed to find anger easily enough.”

“True.” Ok, it seemed he was coming around. “Now Jaskier, I have some questions—”

“Oh, but he had more than that. He was so caring, so intent on protecting even the people who hated him.” Jaskier’s head was now held despondently in his hands. “Why couldn’t any of that caring be spared for me?”

Yennefer blinked in surprise. “Are you serious?”

He glared at her. “Look, I’m not expecting sympathy from the witch who thinks a good way to wake someone up from almost dying is groping them, threatening their life, and using them as djinn bait—”

“Really?” Yennefer felt herself shifting defensively. “I saved your life first.”

“Yeah, to use me as djinn bait.” Jaskier looked indignant. “What, being a mage not enough power for you already?”

“You have no idea what my story is, or my reasons for doing what I did.” Her words were hissed and she could feel the chaos starting to crackle in her fingertips despite her weakened state. “What was taken from me, what I was just trying to get back.”

He did seem genuinely taken aback at that, if only for a moment. “Ok, maybe.” Jaskier pouted. “But you can see why I might not be happy to see you, alright?”

“Maybe.” She supposed he might have a point, and if he was willing to accept her explanations perhaps she could concede to his, at least as long as he was the only one she could get information from safely. “Look, I do need information. Can you set the grudge aside long enough to help me with that?”

He squinted at her suspiciously. “Why would you trust me?”

“Honestly?” Yennefer shrugged. “I don’t have reason to. But I know you aren’t cruel, if you are petty and immature. And I can’t trust anyone else, because I’ve just taken out Nilfgaard’s army in a fiery blast that drained my chaos and I’d rather not have someone try to take advantage of my confusion to sell me out to them in revenge.”

Jaskier blinked. “If I wasn’t completely in the wrong mood for writing, I’d want details. Taking out an army sounds completely worthy of a ballad.”

“Maybe we’ll trade.” That was an easier angle for Yennefer; she wouldn’t need to linger in this interaction.

“Be better than what I’ve written about you already.” He muttered it into his ale as he took another sip.

Still, you didn’t need witcher hearing to catch that. Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “We’ll be coming back to that, since I don’t recall any of your songs mentioning me.”

“It’s a new one.” He was still talking more to his ale than her. “It was supposed to be my grand proclamation to Geralt, the one he’d finally actually understand, and then…” Jaskier looked up at her, almost sheepish. “You came along, and it all went to shit. Turns out Geralt never cared about me.”

“Oh gods.” Yennefer dragged a hand down her face, then paused. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Jaskier bristled, looking anywhere but her. “Not quite that easy to make it past tense.”

“And you were—are jealous of me for getting his attention instead?” If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Yennefer might draw this out, try to torment him a little. But it was no fun unless he’d fight back, and he wasn’t exactly in fighting shape at the moment.

“You said you had questions?” He finally looked at her, changing the topic surprisingly easily for someone who’d seemingly had too many ales.

“Yes.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “But first, it’s Geralt’s own fault for losing us both.” He didn’t seem convinced, so she pressed on with her questions. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere. Might be southern Redania, might be Temeria already. Not sure if I crossed the right river or not.” Jaskier glossed over her comment on Geralt. “After…you know, I started heading to the usual places I’d go when Geralt and I would split up, but it didn’t feel right.” He looked around, despondent again. “So I started traveling again, but I don’t know the name of this town, or any town I’ve been in. It’s just been drinking and all the same, for however long it’s been.”

“It’s been a year, Jaskier.” Yennefer raised a brow. “How do you still have any coin?”

He raised his mug. “Perform first, get the coin for room and board. Maybe even one or both free.”

“Not a bad strategy.” Yennefer would need someone to draw the attention away from her while she traveled, and what was better than a bard? “What would you say to a travel companion?”

Jaskier snorted. “You?”

“It will be temporary, and I can give you stories to sing about so you’re not just thinking about a certain White Wolf.” She leaned in, still wary of speaking too loud and drawing too much attention to herself. “Witchers aren’t the only ones with long lives full of stories, after all. I’ve had adventures of my own.”

There was still suspicion there, but she’d think less of him if there wasn’t. But eventually, he nodded. “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back everyone! We're getting the bard's side of things this time around, so I hope you enjoy!

Jaskier awoke with a pounding head and vague, confusing memories from the night before. He could feel that there was someone in his bed, but if his memories were right he hadn’t had time to find a partner for the night because—

He opened his eyes and saw impossibly smooth olive skin, if covered in what looked like dirt, ash, and some blood, and hair not quite in perfect raven waves, but neater than the rest of her. Even comparatively messy though, Yennefer still looked amazing. But naturally, the sight startled him enough that he fell off the bed, the movement only aggravating his head more. “Oh, Melitele.”

Violet eyes that were probably not as concerned as they looked, because that couldn’t be right, looked over the edge of the bed. “Are you usually so ungraceful?”

“Is waking up looking like you haven’t even slept—but in a good way—a typical mage ability?” Jaskier sat up, taking stock of the room to see if there were any other sudden changes he should be aware of. “So last night wasn’t some weird, drunken hallucination then?”

“No.” Yennefer’s dress shifted as she sat up, still draping attractively across her frame, even if it looked worse for wear. And was that blood? “Unless you’ve had a sudden change of heart, we’re traveling companions. I give you stories so your songs can be about something besides Geralt, and you help me figure out where we are so I can stay away from Nilfgaard until I regain my strength.”

“Hey, not all of my songs were about Geralt.” Jaskier stood, ignoring his head and trying to pretend to have some dignity. “I had some popular love ballads.”

Yennefer fixed him a blank look.

“Oh, Melitele’s tits I need to stop drinking.” He looked at her through the hands he’d covered his face with. “What did I say?”

“Enough.” Again, a flash of what couldn’t have been sympathy on her face; Jaskier wouldn’t expect it from her. “Some of us are better with emotions than witchers, which really isn’t saying much.”

“He really did believe that he had no emotions, all while feeling so much. What an idiot.” Jaskier snorted, then tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. “And I’m the idiot who fell in love with him. Gods.” He dropped his head back into his hands. It felt good to actually talk about it, but… “I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you of all people.”

“This isn’t how I expected my day going either, but if you’re done with the self-pity we should be getting on the road and figuring out our next moves.” Yennefer stretched before getting off the bed. “We need to gather supplies and figure out our next moves.”

“Should we maybe consider the bloodstain on the front of your dress first?” Jaskier had some experience patching injuries from his time with Geralt, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it with her. “Do you at least know if it’s your blood or someone else’s?”

“It’s mine, and it really doesn’t hurt.” Yennefer had crossed to the washbasin in the corner and started cleaning the dirt and god knows what else off her face, looking immaculate somehow with only a few wipes of a wet cloth.

“Shouldn’t we at least look? I’ve cleaned enough wounds to know that an uncleaned wound and dirty surroundings, which you seem to have been in, are not a good combination.” Jaskier went to his bag, ruffling through it. “I don’t have much in the way of medical supplies, but something is better than nothing.” Gratefully, he found his herbs for the days when he’d drunk to much the night before; he took one dose out and began to chew. He’d need to restock soon.

He could hear Yennefer’s disbelief. “Just trying to get me to take off my dress?”

Jaskier shot her a look over his shoulder. “You already showed me everything, remember? True, I was distracted by fearing for my life at the time, but I still saw your upper half already.” He pulled out the pack with medical supplies. “Should we at least clean the wound and cover it?”

She glared at him, still clearly not too trusting. “Fine. But know that if you do anything untoward I can and will retaliate.”

“I’m fully aware.” Jaskier looked way as she sat on the bed and carefully took off the top portion of her dress, noticing a slight wince. He got a new rag from his pack and wet it in the washbasin, crossing to kneel before her.

Violet eyes followed him carefully as he started to wipe at the wound; she winced slightly but didn’t complain. “Like I said, I think it’s healing.”

“It does seem to be.” It seemed to be a fairly straightforward stab wound, and it had already stopped bleeding and started scabbing. Jaskier wiped away the rest of dried blood. “Still best to bandage it though.”

“Go ahead.” Yennefer sat still for him, something Jaskier could appreciate as he cleaned and dressed the wound.

“All done.” Without thinking, Jaskier helped her back into the top of her dress.

She didn’t fight it; Yennefer must have really been drained. “I’m surprised you kept yourself so focused, bard.”

He smirked bitterly. “Well if I could control myself bandaging up Geralt countless times, it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge for me here.”

Yennefer hummed, seemingly going back to their unspoken agreement to not talk about Geralt. She finished putting her dress on and smoothed it out. “We should get going. What will we need for traveling?”

Jaskier looked around the room, gathering his things. “I don’t have a lot, certainly not enough for two people, but if we need we can stop for supplies in the market.” He looked over at her. “If you really want to attract less attention, you might want to dress more inconspicuously.”

“You’re one to talk.” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him, pointedly looking at his brightly colored doublet that he was picking up off of the ground to pull back on.

“Yes well.” He pulled his arms through and began to fasten up the front. “I’m not the one possibly on the run from a hostile army.”

She tipped her head to the side as if considering his point before looking back at him. “Do you have a spare cloak in the meantime?”

Jaskier looked through his pack, trying to find anything that would work. Finally, he held something up, looking between it and Yennefer. “Doesn’t quite go with the dress, but that shouldn’t be a problem if we’re going on the run and not to court.” He tossed it to her while he finished gathering his things, putting the last of it in his pack before throwing it and his lute case over his shoulders. “All ready?”

“Yes.” The cloak really didn’t go with Yennefer’s gown, but if anything it might help make her look less like a mage to be feared and more like just another person displaced by the war who’d just managed to grab what they could before fleeing.

“Then let’s go.” With one final look around the room to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything (save perhaps his wits, choosing to travel with her indefinitely), Jaskier led Yennefer out of the room.

She snorted as she fell into step next to him. “Not trying to make me go first this time? Did you give up on being a gentleman?”

“Long ago.” Jaskier snorted at the flash of confusion on her face, trying to cover his amusement but probably failing. “I remember you practically shoving me ahead of you on the mountain, and I believe I am supposed to be drawing the attention here, right?”

“Should be easy enough, with the bright outfits and never ceasing to speak.” Yennefer shot him a glance. “The very things that annoyed Geralt are coming in handy here.”

“Ah, and my headache returns.” Jaskier pressed a hand to his head and looked to her, even if the herbs already seemed to be alleviating his pain. “Can we go back to just not mentioning him?”

After a moment, Yennefer nodded. “Fair enough.” 

Jaskier sighed. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so horrible after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering (and this will come up in-story later) nothing happened between them (yet). They were just sharing the bed because they're both stubborn drama queens who refused to sleep on the floor. Plus, Jaskier already had the room and there was only one bed...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Juneteenth everyone! For anyone who doesn't know (and I didn't until pretty recently) Juneteenth basically celebrates the end of slavery in the US. It hasn't been the most widely known holiday outside of the Black community, but it's gaining more recognition and I think that's cool. 
> 
> Anyways, onto the story!

They traveled largely in silence that day, which even Yennefer knew was unusual for Jaskier. She wondered if it was the unfamiliar company, or if he was simply still too affected by what had happened with Geralt to bring out his usual nonstop chatter. She was feeling much less affected than he seemed to be, but she supposed that getting to unleash her emotions in a torrent of flame to torch an enemy army probably helped. Shame more people couldn’t do it.

Still, around midday with nothing, not even Jaskier idly strumming his lute, Yennefer spoke up, looking ahead to Jaskier. “Anything looking familiar? Between your travels with Geralt and your own time as a traveling bard you must recognize much of the Continent by now.”

Jaskier snorted. “Forests look like forests more often than not.” He shifted his pack on his shoulder. “Besides, Geralt did most of the navigating when we traveled together. Witcher senses, more experience on the road, all of that.”

Yennefer hummed. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“What about you?” Jaskier glanced over to her, falling into step next to her. “Surely you had your own share of travels.”

“Yes, but rarely on foot.” Yennefer adjusted the pack of supplies they’d gotten her at the market. “Magic and friends in courts means not much time walking or watching the roads themselves.”

Jaskier nodded. “A reasonable explanation as well.” He flashed her a smile. “We should be able to manage though. Who needs a witcher for navigation?”

Despite herself, Yennefer smirked back. “Who needs one for anything?”

“Exactly.” Jaskier laughed, then looked at Yennefer in a more serious, but still relaxed way. “Now, you promised new song material as your travel fare?”

“Right.” Yennefer nodded, thinking of where to start. “So the most dramatic moment was the actual flames, but you’ll probably want some backstory for the battle itself…”

The rest of the day flowed smoothly, Jaskier occasionally asking questions for more detail, but mostly listening. Late in the afternoon, he pulled his lute out of his case when they’d stopped for a break and began strumming, testing melodies and lyrics. They passed the afternoon like that, and while Yennefer would be loathe to admit it, it was actually almost…nice.

They made it to the next town by nightfall. Jaskier looked into the tavern adjoining the inn and decided they’d be receptive to some playing so he could make up some of the coin they’d spent that morning. 

It felt uncomfortable, to be relying on someone else like this. While Yennefer wasn’t sure what she could do without drawing too much attention to herself , she’d spent enough time trying to be independent that relying on someone else like this felt a little grating. As they were dropping their things in their room for the evening, Yennefer spoke up. “You know, I can contribute more than just stories here. I’ve survived on my own long enough.”

“True; I don’t doubt you can do it.” Jaskier looked up. “But aren’t you supposed to be keeping a low profile? Based on the stories I’ve heard, Nilfgaard doesn’t do much good to ordinary people they capture, let alone weakened enemy mages.” There was a flash of emotion too quick to read on his face, then he smiled. “And then what would I do without my new muse? I can’t sing about Geralt forever.”

“I suppose not.” Yennefer didn’t like being in anyone’s debt though. “I may have to repay you later.”

“You already are, remember?” He smiled softly, and despite herself Yennefer smiled back. Another odd look crossed Jaskier’s face, then he straightened his doublet (unfastened again) and picked up his lute. “Best to get playing before they get too drunk to appreciate it.”

He turned and left the room, and at a loss of what to do Yennefer followed. Once they had some coin she’d use it for some food and drink. A hot meal could be nice…

She settled into an out of the way table, and Jaskier began doing his best to gather the crowd’s attention. She had to admit, he was good at it. Perhaps too good at being recognized though…

“Hey!” The loud, semi-drunken voice drew everyone’s attention, including Jaskier’s. “Aren’t you the witcher’s bard?”

Yennefer could see the indecision flood his face for a moment, and she wouldn’t need to read his mind to get at his conflict there, although the answer surprised her. Jaskier smiled easily, then spoke. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

The drunk wasn’t satisfied. “I think I’ve seen you with him before, the White Wolf. Play those songs!”

“How about something else?” Before there could be a response, Jaskier began to play.

The opening notes didn’t sound familiar, but Yennefer listened closely as he began the lyrics. She couldn’t claim total familiarity with the bard’s works, but they’d gained enough popularity that she would have expected to recognize it. 

But she didn’t. 

_The fairer sex they often call it  
But her love’s as unfair as a crook_

She listened to the lyrics, starting to remember Jaskier’s drunken ramblings from when she found him the night before. She couldn’t help but notice that be wasn’t looking at her, despite the fact that he must have known where she was sitting. 

He continued that way through the chorus, playing to the crowd some, but not looking to her.

 _But the story is this,  
she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss,  
her sweet kiss_

It was the second verse where Jaskier’s composure really started to crack. This must have been where the transition was, she realized.

_I’m weak my love, and I am wanting  
If this is the path I must trudge_

This was going to be his grand confession. And then she was there, and then Geralt made a mess of it all. This had to be the song he’d been talking about the night before.

The chorus repeated twice more, and Jaskier got some coin at the end. He looped over to drop some on their table before switching over to more common fare, avoiding any tales of the White Wolf. Eventually, the crowd seemed too drunk to care.

Finally, Jaskier came over to the table, panting slightly from how he’d been dancing around the room while performing. Yennefer pushed a glass of wine across the table to him, which he began to drink gratefully.

“So that first song.” Yennefer stared him down.

Jaskier made a choking sound and put down the wine, patting his chest as if to clear it. “Couldn’t have waited for me to finish drinking?”

“Couldn’t have used the line about the destructive power of my kiss a few times less?” Yennefer crossed her arms.

Jaskier glared at her. “At the time, it felt appropriate. I started changing the song when I was alone on the mountain after I asked Geralt to run away with me and he ran to you instead, and finished when I made it down that mountain after being told by the man I loved that if life could give him one blessing it would be to take me away, after you got him riled up.” He pointed accusingly, then deflated. “Easier to blame you than him, I suppose.”

“Hmm.” Yennefer could relate to feeling like the world had been torn away from under you; it had happened to her enough times. “I suppose I’ll have to wait for your new material to find something I can appreciate. Put your talents to a worthy subject.”

“Did you just insult me, compliment me, and praise yourself all in one breath?” Jaskier laughed. “It seems I’m not the only one here with a way with words.”

Yennefer just rolled her eyes. “Get yourself some food; it’s not half bad here.”

“Whatever you command.” Jaskier stood, then stopped. “I’m doing this because I’m hungry, not because you told me to. Just so you understand.”

“Just like we only shared a bed because both of us refused to sleep on the floor?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow.

“Cuts down on the amount of coin you spend too. Geralt and I did it plenty of times.” Jaskier stretched, carefully putting his lute on the bench. “And you didn’t trust me not to run off.”

Yennefer shrugged. “I’ve heard that you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“And which one are we supposed to be?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at her.

Yennefer rolled her eyes again. “Just go eat, bard.” He looked like he might want to say something more, but his stomach rumbled, letting Yennefer enjoy having the last word. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder about what he said. What were they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are they indeed? (Fun to write is the answer I'd give, but we may be getting another answer to that question soon...)
> 
> The song is, of course, Her Sweet Kiss, so credit to the Witcher writing team for writing some great songs for Jaskier and to Joey Batey for putting so much emotion into a song meant to be played over the credits, but that now attracts fandom focus as yet another example of Jaskier being so in love with Geralt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this has been interesting for me because normally I'm a slow burn kind of writer (I have a 311 chapter Star Trek fic where they don't even kiss until about chapter 150, and a few more chapters for them to actually get together), but Jaskier and Yennefer were not feeling the slow burn. So it's not yet, but soon. And maybe the emotions aren't right away, but they still move faster than most of what I write. So enjoy this not-so-slow burn!

After that, they started to fall into a regular rhythm. They’d travel by day, Yennefer sharing stories while Jaskier started composing. At night, he would play while she gathered information. She’d managed to figure out their location and get information on the war; Jaskier’s drunken initial estimation must not have been far off, because they were now in Temeria. They’d been headed vaguely southeast (more east) already, but now Yennefer wanted to start traveling towards Sodden Hill so she might have a chance of reuniting with the other mages.

There was a lull in their conversation as they walked to the next town when Yennefer decided to bring it up. “I finally gathered enough information from overheard gossip and some light mind skimming.” She looked over at where Jaskier was idly tuning his lute while he walked. “You weren’t far off in your estimate; we crossed into Temeria from Redania just after I joined you.”

Jaskier smirked. “Glad to know my sense of geography wasn’t totally off. Shame if all my education was for naught.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow. “Being a traveling bard is considered using an education?”

“There are many arts taught at Oxenfurt, including music.” He strummed his lute and made a satisfied expression, ceasing his tuning and looking up to her. “Shame Aretuza doesn’t teach anything so useful.”

She rolled her eyes and hid her smile; she was glad he was together enough to return her teasing (and when had it become teasing rather than verbal sparring?), but… “They teach us well enough. The Battle at Sodden Hill was a success; we stopped Nilfgaard’s invasion into the north, or at least held the fort long enough for armed reinforcements to arrive.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows rose. “That’s making it into the song.”

“I’d like to go there. Meet up with whoever’s left and see what’s coming next.” Yennefer looked away. This would technically mark the end of their initial agreement, wouldn’t it? She knew she was safe from Nilfgaard here and wouldn’t need someone to draw attention away from her, and yet… 

“So you’re safe then? We won’t risk you being captured if you draw attention to yourself?” Jaskier’s voice had an odd quality to it; was he thinking the same as her?

Yennefer was almost tempted to read his mind, but he was so open anyways. “It would seem so.”

“Excellent!” She turned in surprise at the excitement in his voice. “I can finally start playing these new songs in the taverns then. It always is fun to get to test new songs, even if the next day turns into mostly tweaking them based on what went over well. It can be annoying, I know, but it’s all part of the process.”

She nearly paused, but kept stride with Jaskier. “Did you hear what I said? Before that?”

“Yes.” He looked at her, more serious now. “You want to go south, to Sodden Hill. I know it isn’t exactly what we initially discussed but…” He looked away. “Better to premiere the song with the subject of it there. So I’ll go where you go, if you’ll have me.”

It shouldn’t have been so refreshing that Jaskier was leaving the choice to her, unlike a certain witcher they knew, but…it was. One of the reasons the bard seemed to be growing on her. “Well it would be a shame to not hear the songs I suppose. Especially if they aren’t in their final form yet.” She looked at him, trying to appear above it all. “We can stay together for now. But I plan on returning to battle if needed after Sodden Hill, so…”

“So best to get any further song material out of you now, on the way there.” There was a slight tension in his shoulders, but his expression was relaxed. “I think you’ll like hearing the new songs in the taverns though. Geralt never appreciated the experience, but he always drew too much attention whether or not he wanted to. You’re much better at deciding whether you want to blend in and escape notice or to stand out and steal the eyes and hearts of everyone in the room.”

Yennefer smirked. “Accusing me of stealing hearts again?”

Jaskier got an odd expression before it shifted to something considering with an edge that was hard to read. He began to play ‘Her Sweet Kiss’ until she slapped his arm to make him stop and they both laughed.

“I am looking forward to hearing your new material when it’s not just being tested in the woods.” Yennefer let her mind drift to what it would be like, having a crowd pay rapt attention to tales of her heroics. She remembered the reputation witchers in general (and Geralt in particular) had had before Jaskier began writing his songs, and how their reputation was now…What would it be like to have her legacy shaped so? To be sung about across Continent by cheering crowds?

It was what she deserved, certainly. After everything life had dangled before her only to rip away, or demanded cruel bargains for, this finally felt like something untainted. The legacy she was meant to leave, perhaps. Maybe there would be more, but this was a start. 

Back in the present moment and not the future that could be, Jaskier smiled. “I’ll have them singing the chorus by the end of the night.”

A whole tavern singing of her, singing her praises…Perhaps this was another thing that made traveling with the bard worth it after all, maybe even enjoyable, not that she’d tell him that. She looked at Jaskier. “I’ll believe it when I see, or rather hear, it.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jaskier’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Yennefer I will make what I did for Geralt seem like nothing compared to this. And it won’t take me twenty years this time, not that it took that long the first time around.”

Yennefer smirked. “I look forward to you proving it.”

Jaskier smiled and looked away, his idle strumming changing into the first of the songs he’d written about her. “Well then I’ll need a whole night’s worth of songs. What else have you got? Any particularly memorable tales to tell?”

“Hmm.” Yennefer thought a moment. “Are you opposed to singing negatively about kings?”

Jaskier considered it, turning back to her. “Would it get me killed?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Yennefer shrugged. “He’s dead now and we aren’t in Aedirn.” She looked at Jaskier, almost hesitating before the next part. “Besides, I’d protect you.”

That earned a smile so bright it was almost dazzling, along with the little laugh that accompanied it. “Then by all means, tell away.”

“Alright.” Yennefer adjusted her pack. “This is the story of when and why I left court.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I would absolutely listen to a whole album about Yennefer. Surely she's gotten into some interesting adventures beyond what we see in the show? I mean by her own word court wasn't that interesting, but she was solo as a rouge mage for a bit too. What happened?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I think you'll enjoy a certain something that happens this chapter, but first a heads up for a brief, not all that graphic torture scene this chapter (inflicted by Jaskier and Yennefer, not them being tortured). If you've watched the show, it's probably less graphic than that, but I figured a heads up could be good. It's what comes after that that I think you'll enjoy though...

They’d continued south through Temeria and neared the border with Sodden. Yennefer felt her chaos starting to come back almost more strongly than before, and it felt good. Especially since getting close to where the battle was meant getting closer to the possibility of current battles, which meant potential danger for her and Jaskier. But they should have a few days travel more before that was a real concern. 

They shouldn’t have counted on safety; they were walking through the woods when Yennefer paused at the sight of armor through the trees. “Do you see that?”

“Yes.” Jaskier paused beside her. “Can you recognize the armor? See any crests?”

“No.” She adjusted the cloak she wore just in case; she’d long changed from the ruined dress she’d worn at the battle into something plainer, but the extra layer of disguise the cloak offered couldn’t hurt. The soldiers were turning toward them. “We’ve been spotted though.”

Jaskier nodded tersely. “Follow my lead.” As the soldiers approached, his demeanor shifted; his posture grew a little straighter from his usual relaxed stance, his expression blanking before shifting into a polite mask.

The soldiers were close now, and Yennefer recognized the armor. “Nilfgaard. Must be scouts to be this far north.” She whispered it quietly, so that the soldiers wouldn’t hear.

Jaskier nodded tensely, his demeanor not shifting. “Gentlemen!” He held himself open but upright. “Can you give us directions? I fear we’re quite lost.”

The soldiers drew their weapons. “Identify yourselves.”

“Alright.” His demeanor stayed aloof but polite, if now slightly annoyed. “Julian Alfred Pancratz, Viscount of Lettenhove.” He nodded as if expecting them to bow, which they did not. “And this,” he gestured at Yennefer, “is not my wife, so I’d rather not cause a courtly scandal by identifying her, if you don’t mind.”

The one closer to Jaskier stepped closer. “A noble, loose in the forest?”

He backed slightly away from the blade extended toward him. “As I said, she is not my wife. Discretion is important in certain matters, surely you’d agree?”

The other soldier was nearing Yennefer; she stepped closer to Jaskier but kept her eye on the soldier’s blade as he looked at her skeptically. “What’s your name?”

“I’d rather not say.” She was at Jaskier’s side now, and despite herself it felt safer than being separate.

Jaskier held up his hand. “What, would you like to view my signet ring as proof of my identity? Really, such insolence. Who do you report to, so that I may report you?”

The one who seemed to be in the lead, who was in front of Jaskier, narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps we should take you to him.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Jaskier reached for his belt, the soldiers tracking his movements. “What about I give you some coin and we forget this whole thing?”

“Not acceptable.” The soldier lowered his sword, starting to reach for Jaskier. “We’d much rather have a Northern noble and his mistress than your coin.”

“Too bad.” So quickly the soldier couldn’t respond, Jaskier drew a dagger from beneath his doublet and shoved it into a gap in the armor of the soldier in front of him.

Not to be outdone, Yennefer drew on the chaos she could to blast the other soldier back until he hit a tree with a sickening crack. He didn’t get up.

The soldier Jaskier attacked, however, had merely stumbled back and fallen to the ground. Jaskier sprang forward, stomping one foot on the soldier’s sword hand to get it out of his grasp and kicking it away before kneeling over the soldier’s chest, dagger to his throat.

“Wait.” Yennefer concentrated again, using her chaos to immobilize the soldier. “Let’s get some information first. I have him pinned .”

Jaskier nodded and pulled back with almost no hesitation. “How long can you hold him?”

“Long enough.” Yennefer stepped closer, visualizing tightening the restraints on the soldier in front of her and almost enjoying how he squirmed. “How many of you are there?”

The soldier grunted. “I won’t tell you.”

“Oh, you’d best cooperate.” Jaskier leaned down, beginning to take off pieces of the soldier’s armor with more ease than would be expected from someone who never wore armor himself. He brought the dagger down on the newly exposed flesh of the man’s arm, not enough to actually harm but enough to threaten it. “You see, I’m the one with the blade here, but she’s the one you should be afraid of.” He looked at Yennefer with awe that looked almost genuine. “This, you unfortunate fellow, is the mighty mage Yennefer of Vengerberg. The Horsewoman of War, the Torch of Sodden Hill. So you should answer our questions.”

The soldier did look a little more nervous at that; Yennefer tightened the restraints further, making him yelp. “We’re alone!”

“And what, pray tell, are you doing here?” Yennefer looked down at him; when he didn’t respond soon enough, she nodded at Jaskier. “Cut him.”

Jaskier nodded, applying more force as he dragged the dagger down the man’s face. It would scar, if he lived past this evening. Which he wouldn’t.

The man whimpered again. “We’re looking for the princess!”

“Not very specific.” Yennefer closed her fist; the man gasped for air until she released him. “What princess, and why?”

“Cirilla of Cintra!” The man practically screamed, gasping for breath. “The White Flame demands it!”

Something shifted in Jaskier’s expression at that. “If you don’t have her yet, I really doubt that’s going to happen.” He cut down the other side of the soldier’s face before looking at Yennefer. “Any other questions?”

“Yes.” Yennefer looked down at the man on the ground. “How many more of you are there? How many troops have breached the North?”

He writhed on the ground from Yennefer’s latest wave of magic. “Only scouts! I don’t know how many, I swear!”

“We’ll need to pass this along.” Jaskier looked up to Yennefer solemnly. “A lot of people’s safety is at stake, and…” He glanced at the soldier. “Anything else we need from him?”

“No.” Yennefer shook her head.

“Good.” With a flourish of his dagger, Jaskier neatly slit the man’s throat before wiping the blood off on the man’s own clothes and resheathing the dagger at his lower back. He looked at Yennefer seriously. “Ciri—that is Princess Cirilla of Cintra, is Geralt’s child surprise. If he somehow got to her, then she’s probably safe, but if Nilfgaard is pursuing them both…”

“That’s a lot of danger.” Yennefer shifted; her own feelings about Geralt may be complicated, but that didn’t mean she’d want him or this child getting into Nilfgaard’s hands. “How does Geralt always find himself in danger?”

“I thought I was the one responsible for it, according to him at least.” Jaskier snorted bitterly as he stood up. “I had nothing to do with Nilfgaard though, so he can’t blame that one on me.”

Yennefer could see Jaskier’s mood slipping in the way it always did when he remembered the mountain, and decided she didn’t want to see him going there. Only because he was an annoying travel companion when he was mopey, she assured herself. “You seem quite equipped to handle danger though; you had some impressive moves with that dagger.”

“Oh, this?” Jaskier pulled the dagger from behind his back in one smooth movement. “One steel,” his other hand reached behind his back, pulling out a near-identical dagger, “one silver. You learn some tricks when you’re often in danger and traveling with a witcher.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow. “Should I comment on how your blades compare to the witcher’s own blades?”

“Yennefer, darling, it’s not the size of the blade, it’s the skill with which you use it.” He smirked. “Besides, some say larger blades on the back is making up for a lack of blade size elsewhere.” He grinned triumphantly at the small smile on her face. “Of course, you’re dangerous enough without a blade.”

Yennefer snorted. “You’re overdoing the metaphor, bard.” She smiled though, unable to resist pushing him a little farther. “But if I had a blade, I think I would best you.”

“Oh, mistress mage, do not tempt me.” He winked, grinning as they drifted a little closer together. “But I fear we’re overly invested in blades here; I must also speak for bards with our dexterous hands and talented tongues.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that you’ve showed those skills at many a court and tavern.” It was true; and Yennefer had to admit she was almost interested.

“I’ve left many an audience satisfied.” Jaskier stepped a little closer. “If you’d like, maybe I could do an encore after my performance at an inn tonight. A private performance.”

“Hmm.” Yennefer leaned into his space a little more. “I have high expectations for private performances.”

Jaskier smirked. “By the end, I bet I won’t be the only one singing.”

It was tempting. Yennefer stepped back though. “Are we really going to do this?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I mean, you are perhaps the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. In a mildly terrifying way typically, but less so now, or at least the edge has turned from terror to something else, something more exciting. I don’t hate you anymore, if I ever really did. And we’re sharing a bed anyways, so we may as well have fun.”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed. “It won’t mean anything, I hope you know that.”

“Ha!” Jaskier grinned. “I wouldn’t expect any less. That’s fine with me.”

“Alright.” Yennefer nodded. “Let’s find an inn for the night then.”

Jaskier’s grin widened. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing this, all I could think of was that one John Mulaney "and then I didn't" meme. But instead it's like:
> 
> Jaskier and Yennefer, agreeing to hook up: "This doesn't mean anything"  
> *John Mulaney voice*: And then it did


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! As you may have noticed, the rating has not changed. A lingering side effect of my Catholic upbringing that I haven't been able to shake off is being unable to write smut, so things are staying PG-13. A mildly racy PG-13 maybe, but PG-13 nonetheless. Still, I hope you enjoy!

Later that night, they separated, panting and sweaty. Jaskier had given an especially charged performance at the tavern below earlier, riling up the crowd with bawdy songs and earning them plenty of coin before they retired for the night. He’d been smiling and winking at the crowd all night, attracting plenty of attention, and Yennefer could feel the jealous stares on them both as they went upstairs together. It was an alluring feeling, having what everyone else wanted.

And Jaskier’s private performance…she wouldn’t be opposed to an encore of that either.

She rolled over in the small inn bed, facing him. “Not bad, bard. You weren’t exaggerating that talented tongue and…what was it? Dexterous fingers?”

He huffed, rolling to his side as well. “If you’re forgetting words, I must have done well.”

“Hmm.” She looked at him. “The real skill, I suppose, would be getting you to forget your words.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation to continue?”

“Already?” She raised an eyebrow. “And I thought witchers had impressive refractory periods.”

“Oh, don’t.” Jaskier groaned, covering his face. “Don’t mention him now.”

“What?” Yennefer smirked; he was too easy to tease. “Don’t want to know how you compare?”

He snorted. “I’ve helped Geralt bathe enough times to know that comparison, Yennefer.” He paused, growing uncertain. “Or did you mean comparing performance? Unless you’re suggesting he’s one of those men who—”

“Jaskier.” She laughed. “You really have put a lot of thought into this haven’t you?”

He glared. “You’re a cruel woman, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I leave an adoring crowd for you, and this is the reception I get? Perhaps I should go back down there and—”

“No.” Yennefer grabbed his wrist before she could think about it. “No one else gets you tonight; they can all look their fill but you’re mine for now.” Moving past that before either could think too much on it, Yennefer switched the topic. “But you’re far too easy to tease, Julian Alfred Pankratz. I’m surprised to see that your inventiveness in this realm extended so far out of it; making up a noble title for yourself to lie to some soldiers? You played the part well.”

“Right.” Something in Jaskier’s expression shifted, like he was making a decision before going forward. “That actually…wasn’t made up. I am technically the Viscount of Lettenhove, although other members of the family handle most of the responsibility.”

“What?” She sat up slightly. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He scoffed. “Only if you assume I don’t exist outside of Geralt.” He rolled onto his back, actual frustration evident in his tone. “I am a nobleman, not that I do much with it, I am considered highly successful by bardic standards and my songs are sung across the Continent, I’ve played many a royal court, I went to Oxenfurt and teach there part of the year, and even more. I have a whole life separate from Geralt, and yet that’s all people see. There’s a whole chunk of the year where he’s hibernating for winter or whatever at Kaer Morhen, and I’m living an independent life, but no one cares.” Something in his voice began to crack. “And then this year there was no Geralt to meet up with once my winter in Oxenfurt was done, and suddenly not even I could figure out what to do with my independent life. Nothing I did, old or new, felt quite right.” Jaskier sighed and looked over at her, then ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, this isn’t what this is between us, I know. But I get so frustrated, you know?”

Yennefer snorted, rolling onto her back as well and letting their shoulders settle against each other. “Given that my argument with Geralt on the mountain was about him using the djinn to tie us together, denying me a full life outside of him, I think I just might.”

Jaskier laughed. “I guess you would.” He paused, something hard to read crossing his face. “Wait, Geralt controlled the djinn in Rinde?”

“Yes.” Yennefer sat up slightly on her elbows. “Did he never tell you?”

“No.” And oh, that was definitely pain, tied to realization. “So that means that just before the djinn attacked me, when Geralt said all he wanted was peace and quiet…”

The air itself seemed to tense; Yennefer dropped back down, looking at the ceiling. “I’m sorry.”

“I nearly died.” Jaskier’s voice was soft, and out of the corner of her eye Yennefer saw a hand drift to his neck. “And he never told me he…” His voice shifted, taking on an edge of anger. “He treated the djinn like it was another thing that was my fault on the mountain.”

This was a different direction than Yennefer expected the night to take, but she didn’t feel she could abandon the bard in whatever dark place he was reaching. But reminding him of her role in Rinde probably wouldn’t help anything, so she stayed quiet.

He laughed, this time bitter and angry. “Fuck Geralt.”

“Hmm.” She smirked; this she could work with. “It is enjoyable if you get the chance. Although now I wonder if it’s worth the aftermath…”

“Ohh, Yennefer. Darling Yennefer.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed as he rolled onto his side again, but he smirked too, and was there something almost grateful in his expression? “I’m going to make both of us forget his name, just you wait.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.” She looked at him with challenge in her eyes, spreading her legs enough that he’d feel her thigh brush his own. “Prove it.” Yennefer wasn’t sure if she could trust the sudden mood change, but it seemed he could use the distraction, and if it was enjoyable as before she wouldn’t complain about being his distraction. “See if we can both forget it all.” 

“Gladly.” He ducked below the blanket that had covered them, working his way down her body slowly, but confidently.

_He is quite good with his mouth and hands,_ Yennefer thought before she got a bit too distracted for thinking.

\------

Jaskier awoke late the next morning, looking over at Yennefer, who was still asleep. Gods, she was intimidatingly attractive. He could make an entire ballad over how she looked when she slept, and that wouldn’t even touch on her beautiful violet eyes.

He considered rolling away, but their legs were still tangled together below the blanket and he didn’t want to disturb her. Last night…it was amazing. He didn’t have many bed partners who could render him speechless, and although his mouth was occupied for much of the night…

Jaskier definitely wouldn’t be opposed to doing that again. If he spoke to himself from a year ago, he never would have imagined this, but…this was nice. Yennefer was a good travel companion, he really enjoyed having new material to perform (especially with such exciting tales; it was good another bard hadn’t gotten to her earlier), and somehow, he’d even grown to trust her.

Were they friends? Friends who hopefully could have a few more rounds of very amazing sex? Do this more often?

“If you think that loudly, a mage wouldn’t even have to try to read your thoughts.” Yennefer’s eyes cracked open, and she smirked. “And to answer the question, I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance from you.”

“A morning show?” Jaskier leaned on his elbow, letting a leg drag between hers. “I may be up to the occasion.”

Yennefer’s hand reached under the blanket, watching his face carefully until she found her target. “It seems you are.” She maneuvered herself atop him. “Let’s see if I can make you speechless again.”

“Ohh, challenge accepted.” And Jaskier let her take control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random bits of emotion? In my scenes of characters in bed? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Sidenote: does anyone know what a viscount is supposed to be? I'm American so my starting knowledge of this stuff is pretty low, and when I looked it up it said that what "viscount" means varies from country to country. But apparently that's Jaskier's title in the books, so I'm rolling with it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently yesterday marked the halfway point for 2020, so I want to take a moment to celebrate that. Unless the second half of the year brings more dangerous chaos, we're getting closer to 2021. Hopefully we can keep the movements for social change and drop the increasingly apocalyptic lingering threats of death. 
> 
> Anyways, guess who we meet next?

They moved a little more slowly, now. They had some later starts from the inns, that was for sure, but they were also watching carefully for soldiers from Nilfgaard as they crossed into Sodden proper. In the night, once they could be sure it was safe, Jaskier would perform, some of his new material at a point that he was satisfied with it. And especially satisfied was his new muse in the corner booth; he secretly delighted in the feeling of those violet eyes switching between the enraptured crowd drinking in her heroics and following him as he flirted and flitted about, charming many but knowing who he was going to at the end of the night.

And there, they both ended up even more satisfied.

They had about a week of that new routine, that new level of comfort with each other. Their conversations during the day and at night had changed, deepened, and that wasn’t all. The boundaries began to blur a bit; Jaskier was initially surprised when she agreed to a good luck kiss in the tavern before his performance in the middle of the week, but he kept coming back for more. He enjoyed the casual touches as much as the ones they’d share later at night, and in the morning. Sometimes midday in a secluded spot on the trail if they felt adventurous.

But after that week, the routine changed. 

Jaskier looked back at Yennefer as they walked toward a clearing. He felt something was amiss; he couldn’t tell what it was, but you didn’t travel with a witcher for years without learning to at least hear out your instincts, even if you ended up not listening to them. For all Jaskier knew that people thought he had no sense of self-preservation, he knew when to be wary.

He could see the smoke from a fire through the trees up ahead; there must be a group camping in the clearing there. Jaskier felt Yennefer pause next to him, but he kept his focus up ahead. “Do you pick up anything?”

“Nothing dangerous, from what I can tell.” Yennefer squinted. “I feel something magic, but it’s not like anything I recognize.”

“So we’ll be cautious.” Jaskier let his hands drift to where his daggers were before disguising the movement as just adjusting his pack and lute. “But I have a feeling that we should go investigate.”

Yennefer hesitated. “I feel the same way actually. Let’s go.”

They entered the clearing, neither trying to mask their steps nor make themselves louder. When they came into the clearing, they saw a young woman—a girl, really—with bright blonde hair and a deep blue cloak. She looked up, jumping at their presence.

But there was something familiar about her; it took Jaskier a moment but then he finally he realized who he was looking at. “Princess Cirilla?”

“It’s Fiona actually.” Her expression was defensive, her fists balled in nervous anticipation until a look of recognition crossed her features. “Jaskier?”

“It’s me.” He walked further into the clearing, pausing to address Yennefer. “After the wedding banquet, I went back to Cintra a few times to play. Queen Calanthe forbid me from playing anything that mentioned Geralt, but…” He looked at Ciri, then back at Yennefer. “This is Yennefer, by the way. She’s a mage, maybe the most powerful on the Continent.” Was that pride in his voice? Were they at that point?

Ciri’s eyes lit up. “You’re Yennefer?”

“Yes.” She stepped further into the clearing, and Jaskier didn’t miss the odd look, almost a feeling, that seemed to pass between the two. Yennefer broke away to look around. “Are you out here alone? We found troops from Nilfgaard looking for you not long ago. It’s not safe to travel alone.”

Ciri bristled at that. “I can handle myself; more than you know.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yennefer stepped closer. “Still, there’s safety in traveling in groups.”

“She hasn’t been traveling alone. She’s with me.” Jaskier felt his stomach do an all-too-familiar flip at the all-too-familiar voice, followed by it’s golden-eyed speaker, coming out of the trees on the other side of the clearing. Geralt nodded at them. “Jaskier. Yennefer.”

Jaskier hated the torrent of emotion that came up inside him. He looked away from Geralt, back to Ciri. He wasn’t even sure what he would say to Geralt, and now he was here. Not that he hadn’t imagined it a few dozen times, but… 

Thankfully, Yennefer spoke. “Geralt. You decided to go for your Child Surprise after all?”

“We found each other.” Ciri looked between them all, her sharp green eyes clearly picking up some of the newfound tension there. “After the fall of Cintra. I was running from Nilfgaard, and then…a lot happened, but Geralt and I found each other.”

“Like Destiny.” Jaskier couldn’t help the comment, his eyes flicking to Geralt despite himself.

“Hmm.” Geralt walked past them toward the fire, and Jaskier saw that he was carrying something, some food for the night that he’d caught. “Will you two be staying? I could go find something more.”

The sun’s light was nearly gone from the trees. “It wouldn’t make sense to keep traveling with it getting so dark, not when there’s already a campsite.” Yennefer took off her pack, setting it down against a tree.

The decision apparently made, Jaskier took off his pack. “No need to worry about us though; we have rations.” Finished with talking to Geralt, he turned back to Ciri. “What would you say to some music, Fiona? A break from our surroundings.”

She glanced around. “Would that be drawing too much attention to ourselves?”

Jaskier’s heart broke a little at the signs that she’d been truly on the run. “Not if it’s just while we get settled for the night.” He came over and sat near her, watching carefully for any signs that it would make her uncomfortable first. He moved his lute around to the front. “What about it? I’ve got a few new ones since I last played at Cintra.”

She cautiously nodded. “If it’s alright with everyone else.”

Jaskier looked to Yennefer, then glanced at Geralt. “Well, no objections. Let’s go.” There was a comfort as he pulled the lute from its case and began to play; this, at least, he was familiar with. And the little smile that he was eventually able to draw from Ciri made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know there's an "official" timeline, but seeing as it conflicts with the show (e.g. at the meeting where they're deciding Yennefer's court placement they mention Calanthe, but by the "official" timeline she isn't born until several years later) I've decided to selectively ignore it. Like all canon, sometimes it's more fun to just forage in it rather than holding yourself to it. So I've decided that Ciri is like 14-15ish here and not the 11-12(?) she apparently is in the show. By the "official" timeline she'd be like 13, so we can just have fun with it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! The whole gang's coming together, how do we feel about that? We'll find out how Geralt feels soon enough, cuz we're jumping perspectives again. All of these characters are just too interesting to not try getting in their heads for a bit, right?

Geralt offered to take first watch. There seemed to be no complaints, and Yennefer offered to take over for him partway through the night. It made sense; best to let the ones who needed more rest get it. So Geralt stood watch as they prepared for the night. Ciri set up her bedroll near him, as she had been doing, but what was more surprising was what happened across the fire. Jaskier and Yennefer rolled out their bed rolls side by side, then proceeded to curl together to sleep.

Something twisted in Geralt. He wasn’t sure quite what it was. Regret, for what had happened on the mountain? Jealousy, perhaps? But jealous of who? For the intimacy they seemed to share now? He’d smelled them on each other once they were all in the clearing. That was…something. Another thing Geralt wasn’t sure what he felt about.

Geralt needed to focus; clear his mind. He let himself slip into a light meditation, still perfectly aware of their surroundings and still within easy reach of his swords. He didn’t want anyone here being harmed. A part of him had been almost relieved that Jaskier and Yennefer appeared here; he wasn’t sure if had been consciously worried about them, but there was some part of him that that felt…relief, perhaps, at seeing them unharmed.

Geralt wasn’t sure if it was mutual though. Yennefer had always, or nearly always, presented sharp control of her emotions, making her hard to read. But Jaskier…

They separated many times, but always came back together. Always picking up where they’d left off as if no time had passed. Jaskier always seemed eager to see him, smiling and laughing and talking, even when Geralt was glaring or covered in monster guts of varying types, or both at once. But today there’d been almost no words, barely even any glances. He’d saved his attention for Ciri, and for Yennefer. Yennefer, who he’d always seemed completely against.

Yennefer, who was awakening for her turn to watch. She untangled herself from Jaskier, who whined and shifted slightly in his sleep until Yennefer leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead and tuck his lute case under his arm. Something twisted in Geralt again. She stood, walking over to where he was quietly watching, and speaking low enough to not disturb the others. “Anything yet?”

“No. It’s been quiet.” He didn’t move toward his bedroll, yet to be spread out.

Yennefer sighed. “I know you have questions. Go ahead.”

There were a lot, but one came forward before Geralt could stop it. “Jaskier? Are you and him…?” They both knew Geralt could have already picked it up, but he found himself needing the confirmation. 

“Sleeping together? Yes. I think his reputation at courts may have been well-earned after all.” Yennefer said it casually, as if it didn’t cause that thing in Geralt’s chest to twist all over again.

“How?” Geralt kept his face neutral, even if it took more effort than usual.

“How?” Yennefer arched one perfect eyebrow. “Well Geralt, I know for a fact you know the general mechanics of the act, even if styles and approaches differ.”

He glared at her openly now. “You know what I meant. How did it happen?”

“Hmm.” Even with something so short, there was something unplaceable in Yennefer’s tone. “It was after Sodden Hill. I came to in a tavern with no memory of how I’d gotten there, and only one familiar face in sight.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt couldn’t help but let his focus drift to where the bard slept, curled on his side. His relaxed, peaceful expression was familiar, and a contrast to the pinched quality it had had earlier that evening. 

“Yes.” Yennefer crossed her arms. “Having just destroyed an army and uncertain where I was, I didn’t exactly want to try making friends with just anyone. I knew he’d at the very least not sell me out, even if he wouldn’t like me. He was horribly drunk, but we struck a deal. Stories for new songwriting material in exchange for helping me travel and figure out where I was, and maybe get to safety.”

“Those songs were about you.” It had been odd to not know any of the songs Jaskier played; they had all the signatures of a song Jaskier himself had written, but Geralt didn’t recognize them as the songs Jaskier had written for him. Knowing Jaskier had moved on in that way made the now very familiar twist in Geralt happen again. “When he was playing for—Fiona.”

“You’re catching on quickly.” Yennefer followed his gaze to the two still sleeping by the embers left of the fire. “We started traveling, he started writing…Even tested them out in some taverns. It’s nice, getting celebrated like that. And Jaskier…there’s more to him than I thought. Much more. He even got us out of danger once or twice.”

“Hmm.” Geralt wondered if there were things about Jaskier that Yennefer knew and he didn’t; the twisting in his chest now was so strong he wondered if his organs were actually moving themselves.

“He’s a worthy traveling companion.” There was almost fondness in Yennefer’s voice. “Certainly worse people to be on the road with.”

It felt like there were things still unsaid, but Geralt saw the opening for his next question and went for it. “Will you two be joining us?”

The answering pause was long enough that he almost became concerned, but then Yennefer spoke. “We’ll have to discuss it, but I want to, for a while at least.” She looked at Geralt. “The girl has such strong, undefined magical energy that I want to learn more, maybe help her if I can. And of course, you made sure long ago that I could never stay away for long.”

“Yen—” Geralt wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

It didn’t matter, because Yennefer cut him off. “We’ll have plenty of time. You should save your words.” She was looking at Jaskier again, and he could almost feel what she wasn’t saying. “Get some rest, Geralt.”

He merely nodded in acknowledgement before going to his own bedroll and laying it out. He didn’t rest well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So despite having the plot basically done, I don't have a set chapter count for this yet. I keep getting snippets of snarky dialogue just begging to be included, which means a longer fic. But in some ways, that's the opposite of a problem, right?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you were really interested in seeing what Jaskier was feeling about all of this; be careful what you wish for... 
> 
> Still Geralt's POV though

Packing up in the morning was quiet. After years of Jaskier’s constant chatter, it felt…unnatural. Geralt, despite everything that felt natural to himself, knew that he would need to talk to Jaskier.

Thankfully, he wasn’t alone in that thought. Once they were walking, Yennefer sent him a significant look before turning to Ciri. “Has Geralt told you much of magic?”

“Not yet.” Ciri turned to Yennefer, clear interest in her eyes.

“Well he can barely do any anyways, so I suppose that’s appropriate.” Yennefer wrapped her arm around Ciri’s shoulders. “I’ll answer any questions you have.” She began to walk a little ahead of the group.

Ciri hesitated, not quite keeping step with Yennefer. “Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“Geralt can hear us even if we go a bit away.” Yennefer glanced back at him. “Right Geralt? Witcher senses are sharper than most.”

“They are; I’ll hear if there’s trouble.” He nodded at Ciri in reassurance, and she seemed to accept it as she walked ahead with Yennefer.

Geralt didn’t miss the glare Jaskier shot Yennefer. He was still on the opposite side of Roach from Geralt; he nearly couldn’t see him from where they’d piled most of their packs on her back.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose; along with the scents of the forest, Yennefer’s lilac and gooseberries, Roach, and Ciri’s scent, he could pick out Jaskier. The base scent was familiar, the notes of Yennefer’s scent mixed in there was not, and some other elements were new. There was something like pain, but without the coppery tang of blood. Not a physical pain then. The quiet drew on, Geralt not sure how to break it. He’d rarely had to prompt a conversation with Jaskier before.

“So.” Geralt cleared his throat, unsure where to go next.

“Did you go to Cintra for her? Ci—Fiona?” Jaskier’s voice was hard to read. “Or did you just let her come to you?”

“A bit of both. It was…complicated.” Geralt glanced over at Jaskier, but the bard wasn’t looking at him.

“As talkative as always then.” Jaskier wouldn’t look at him still. “It’s been much easier getting stories from Yennefer. She’s got a good eye for details, and shares them well.”

“You’ve gotten a few songs from her.” Geralt wanted to talk about last night, at the fire, but wasn’t sure of the words.

“Yes. Wasn’t exactly feeling most of my old material, you know?” The pain-anger smell intensified; Geralt wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t sure of the right words, but wished he was.

There was a disbelieving laugh from the other side of Roach. “I suppose we’ll wait another few years for you to decide your next emotions then? Still recovering from the anger from a year ago?”

Geralt nearly snapped back, but stopped himself. “About what I said on the mountain—”

“Oh Geralt, it wasn’t just then.” Burning blue eyes turned on him. “I wasn’t much older than Fiona is now when I first joined you, back in Posada. But I’m not a young man too caught up in adventure to mind anything else anymore.” Jaskier’s voice had an edge to it, one Geralt had heard before but never directed at him.

“Jaskier—”

“No. I’ll talk, and just actually listen for now.” He huffed. “I was never sure if you were before, but this isn’t just idle chatter this time. So listen.”

Geralt wanted to say that he’d always listened, but he didn’t think that’d be welcome this time.

“I spent nearly my whole adult life with you, in some sense or another. Traveling with you, writing and performing songs about you, even when we were apart you were there in some capacity. And I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong.” He sighed, looking away from Geralt. “I never really expected too much; I didn’t want you to change, not really. I could see who you really were, how kind and caring. How you’d put up this gruff exterior but still try to save everyone you could, even the so-called monsters you were paid to kill some of the time.” Jaskier glanced to him, then away. “And Geralt, I enjoyed it, maybe a bit too much. Sure, I’d spend my nights with whoever at court or in town or over winter, but I always came back to you.”

Geralt nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should speak yet.

Jaskier continued. “And what was my usual greeting? A scowl? A fuck off? Shutting down any comment about friends or caring?”

Geralt shifted. “Jaskier, I—”

“I’m not done.” Jaskier glared at him, holding it a moment before looking away. “I was fine with it. I figured I knew you well enough to read your humor, see the little ways you’d show you trusted me, or cared for me. But then came the mountain.” He looked at Geralt, anger and sorrow weighing on his face. “And I know you were stressed and lashing out. But all of those were. Your. Damn. Problems.” The anger won out. “I may have been the reason you were in Cintra, but you chose to evoke the Law of Surprise, even after seeing the havoc it could wreak. You were already fishing for the djinn for your own reasons, and you were the one who controlled it—" Geralt must have showed some surprise, because Jaskier nearly snarled—“Yes, Yennefer filled me in on that particular detail. I always knew being around you could put me at greater risk of getting killed, but I never expected it to be because of you so directly.”

Geralt couldn’t hold back his own snarl. “I never intended for the djinn to attack you. And don’t forget, I also made sure you got healed.”

“Well congratulations on cleaning up your own mess instead of leaving me to die; it’s not like saving people from getting killed in unnatural ways is your job anyways.” Jaskier’s expression didn’t waver. “All of that, your own fault, your own choices, yet you blame me. Although you don’t seem so angry about it now; no complaints about traveling with the woman and child you bound to you.” Jaskier scoffed and looked away. “Within a day, a day in which she enchanted you to do violence and maybe left you to be executed, you were showing more care for Yennefer than you did for really anyone else, still denying—after I nearly died from your wish—that you cared for me. Denying it with a smile, but denying it nonetheless. And after twenty-two years, after I’d spent more of my life knowing you than not, all I got was being a shit-shoveler, not a friend.”

“Jaskier—“ Geralt tried to speak, but was cut off again.

“I’m still not done.” Jaskier took a deep breath; it faltered as it came out. “And after all of that, I almost wanted to hate you. To undo my work of building up your reputation and let the world think what it would of you. But I couldn’t. I can’t.” Jaskier glanced to him, blue eyes decidedly not angry now. “Because I knew too well that you’re so good, so caring, have such a strong sense of honor and justice that you’d never really deserve the vitriol the world threw your way, that it would eat at you even if you never showed it. And that I would hate myself for it. Because I could never really hate you.” Jaskier’s voice cracked. “And it’s not fair, that this is all I get and you still make me ache, you bastard.” There was pain, but no real anger in his words anymore. “But I’m not young anymore; I can’t survive on scraps. What will it take, another twenty-something years? I’d be in my mid-sixties, Geralt. Not an appropriate age for adventures anymore. Probably not an age for much besides settling somewhere and counting out the years left.”

Geralt bristled. “Are you using your own mortality against me?” It wasn’t something he liked to think of.

“I’m being realistic, I’m not trying to be cruel.” Jaskier sighed. “I just want you to be plain with me, Geralt. If you want me here, if you truly care, say so. If not, I won’t beg for it anymore. I’m the only one here not tied to you by destiny or other magic; I can go. Give you the blessing of getting off your hands.”

“And yet.” Geralt felt the words from long ago coming to him, “here we are.”

Jaskier snorted. “If you’re trying to get to me, use your own words this time. Don’t just repeat mine.” He looked at Geralt and softened slightly, sighing. “Look, I meant what I said about not having forever. But I’ll give you time still. Think it over.” With that, he picked up his pace some, joining Ciri and Yennefer, whose cheek he pressed a quick kiss to before reaching to take her hand.

Geralt stayed back with Roach and the twisting in his heart that now felt like a stab. And he knew all too well the pain of a stab. Maybe this was worse actually. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I know a lot of us have had Jaskier being very sad after the mountain (and I have read and loved those fics) but consider: what if he got angry? Because my brain thinks partially in Amazing Devil references these days, I decided to go a little less "Two Minutes" and a little more "Farewell Wanderlust" (and then that line of thought spawned a whole different fic that I actually finished before this one, so if you want some Geraskier with a Yennefer cameo and more angry Jaskier feel free to check it out because it's complete and fully posted already, and called Farewell Wanderlust). Shameless self-promo aside, how are we feeling about our boys now? 
> 
> Going back to the Amazing Devil, anyone catch the reference?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! You had a lot of feelings about all of Jaskier's feelings, which just means I got to sit here and cackle over making you go through that wild emotional ride. But the show's just getting started!

Jaskier wondered if he’d been too harsh with Geralt, but part of him was satisfied. He’d been holding onto those words, thinking of this scenario for so long…So there was some satisfaction, he had to admit. But was that all he was feeling? He really had unloaded a lot on Geralt, and Geralt had barely responded. Not that that was too unusual for him. Best to put it out of his mind for now, because he meant what he said about giving Geralt time to think it over. He listened in to what Ciri and Yennefer were discussing, which sounded like the Battle of Sodden Hill.

Ciri sounded awed. “That charred forest we walked through; that was you?”

“Yes.” Yennefer sounded proud, and Jaskier smiled for it. She hadn’t released his hand either; this was new for them, and he thought maybe she was doing it because she was trying to get a rise out of Geralt, but he was alright with that.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t gotten farther than this.” Jaskier looked over at her. “The battle was weeks ago now. Geralt usually moves much quicker than this.”

“Well we met near the battle and had to hide from soldiers at first, which slowed us. But also…” Ciri hesitated, then looked at them as if she was uncertain about if she should share something before deciding. “Geralt is injured. We were able to have one of the mages look at it when we stopped at Sodden Hill after the battle, but still…”

“Which mage?” Yennefer’s tone was sharp and her frame tensed slightly.

Ciri paused for a moment, thinking. “Triss, I think her name was. She was recovering from her own injuries, but said she owed Geralt, which he didn’t agree with since apparently she’s healed him before.”

“The incident with the striga.” Yennefer nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly again. “She told me about that; I’m glad to hear she’s well.”

“And how is Geralt?” Jaskier couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice despite himself.

Ciri seemed to notice, but she didn’t comment. “Not fully recovered, but apparently better. He wants to get to Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier snorted. “At this rate, we may not get there before it freezes over; normally Geralt and I would have split up around now, and be further north when we did it.” He turned back to Geralt, who seemed like he was deep in conversation with Roach. He didn’t look like he was hurting, but maybe he was favoring one leg. Geralt was always frustratingly good at hiding injuries. Jaskier looked back at Yennefer and Ciri. “So he’s still hiding his injuries? I’ll be as white-haired as him before long if he keeps this up.”

Ciri looked at him, her gaze assessing somehow. “You’d need to stay around for that to happen. Will you be staying?”

“I…” Jaskier looked between her and Yennefer; the two of them hadn’t had this conversation yet. “I’m not sure yet.” It was the most honest answer he could give now. “It depends in part on Geralt, and also…” He trailed off, very aware of the fact that he and Yennefer were still holding hands. They probably needed to have this conversation. He sighed. “And also on a lot of other things.” 

Ciri nodded, looking between the two of them. There was something sharp and perceptive in her green eyes. “I’m going to check on Geralt.” She dropped back, leaving the two of them alone.

Jaskier took a deep breath and looked at Yennefer. “Are we staying?” He paused, considering his own words and gripping her hand a bit tighter for a moment. “Is this a we thing?”

“That’s up to us, I suppose.” Yennefer looked at him. “I think I want to stay though. But not because of Geralt.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “For Fiona. There’s something about her, about her magic.” She looked back to Jaskier. “I want to stay with her, help her. It feels important.”

Jaskier looked ahead. “She is a charming young girl. And if she’s anything like her mother, powerful.” He glanced at Yennefer. “Remind me to play you the ballad about the wedding feast, darling; it was quite the tale.”

“I’m sure.” He heard the amusement in Yennefer’s voice without needing to see her smile. When she spoke next, she sounded more uncertain. “Do you plan on staying? I know you already told Fiona that it depended, but…”

He sighed. “It does.” He looked to Yennefer, to where their hands were still joined and swinging lazily with their steps. “It depends on Geralt, true. I poured out everything I’ve been thinking over the past year, maybe longer, to him. I’ve given him time to think it over, but if it goes negatively…” Jaskier looked away. “I don’t know if I could bear that again.”

“You wouldn’t be traveling alone this time though.” Yennefer didn’t look at him, but her hand in his tightened slightly. “Your decision isn’t just about Geralt, is it?”

“No.” He squeezed her hand in return. “I admit to being intrigued by Fiona as well, and then…” Jaskier looked at Yennefer. “I’ve enjoyed being with you, in all senses of the word.” He held himself back from mentioning how glad he’d been when she’d taken his hand without complaint, needing some connection after finally spilling everything with Geralt. It felt almost natural, drawing comfort from her.

“I have as well.” Yennefer avoided eye contact, but kept their hands together. “But I wouldn’t want you to stay somewhere that causes you pain because you feel obligated to stay with me.”

“It wouldn’t be obligation.” His voice was soft, more so than he expected it to be. “But likewise, I wouldn’t want to force you to choose between me and them. If it came to that.”

Yennefer laughed bitterly. “Somehow Geralt still manages to be the master of our fates.”

“Ironic, considering how much he seemed to want to avoid destiny.” They shared a more genuine laugh at that, then Jaskier felt something creep up inside him. “By the way, this,” he squeezed his hand in hers, “it isn’t just to rile him up, is it?”

Yennefer paused, as if unsure, before responding and sounding more resolute. “Not for me.” Violet eyes turned to him. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, but it’s not the main reason I’m doing it. He doesn’t truly rule me.”

“Me neither.” Jaskier smiled, something he wasn’t sure of settling. He wondered if she got as much comfort from the contact as he did. “Like you said, I’m not opposed to it, but that’s not why I’m doing this.”

“Good.” Yennefer also seemed to relax slightly, and something unspoken but comfortable settled over them. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he was ready to put a name to it yet, but he felt like he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking over this chapter: just cuz Geralt and Ciri are there doesn't mean that the soft Yenneskier content has to stop


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This weird little found family is really starting to come together, huh? I almost wish I did a chapter from Ciri's perspective (I'm trying later on but it doesn't come as naturally to me as the others) because trying to figure out what is going on between these three weirdos would be so much fun. Like you're on the run, you've just experienced horrible trauma, and now you've landed in this weird group with some definite baggage they refuse to talk about. Fun stuff, right? Oh, and you have mysterious magical powers. Ciri's living the wildest coming of age story.

They settled into camp that night in another clearing, quickly getting what they needed to set up ready. While Geralt wandered off to hunt something for dinner, Jaskier settled down with his lute, looking at Ciri. “I told Yennefer earlier that I would play the ballad I wrote about the night your parents were married. Would you like to hear it? I’m not sure if I ever played it when you could remember. Queen Calanthe didn’t like hearing it, not after…” He trailed off awkwardly. Ciri would have been so young when Pavetta died; would she even remember her mother?

“I’d like to hear it.” Ciri looked over to where Yennefer sat across from them, testing her magic by manipulating the fire. “And you would as well, Yennefer?”

Yennefer smiled in a soft way that made Jaskier’s heart skip a beat. “If you’d like to hear it, then of course.” She looked at Jaskier, her expression different but still soft. “And the bard did promise me.”

“And who am I to turn down an interested audience?” Jaskier smiled at them both, adjusting the lute as he began to play. It had been a little while, but like most of his songs it came back to him easily enough once he started. He hardly noticed his surroundings as he got further into the song. He began to reach the climax of the song, when Pavetta herself saved Duny.

_While the Lioness is known for her might,  
T’was her daughter’s roar that caused a fright  
And from the wrath of her mother,  
The princess saved her thorny lover—_

“What?” Jaskier was nearly startled as Ciri spoke after listening intently. “What do you mean by that?”

“By what?” Jaskier mentally ran through the lyrics in his mind, not sure what would have stood out. There certainly had been a lot there; Pavetta’s magic, Calanthe nearly killing Ciri’s father, Ciri’s father looking like a porcupine…

“Her daughter’s roar.” Ciri watched him closely, and across the fire Yennefer did the same. “What did my mother do?”

Jaskier looked between Yennefer and Ciri. “I’m not sure exactly, but it was definitely magic, and strong. I’m perhaps not the best to describe it, but her scream when she thought your father would be harmed was enough to knock back everyone at court, then there was this whirlwind—”

“Because of her?” Ciri stared at the fire, looking deep in thought.

“Yes.” Jaskier set his lute aside, sensing the shift in mood. “Maybe Geralt could describe it; he knows magic better than I do. But when she got upset I nearly thought the whole hall was going to come down.”

“Sounds like powerful magic alright.” Yennefer sat back. “I would say I’m surprised Aretuza never came after her, but the Brotherhood never liked Cintra. Never liked any court that wouldn’t accept a mage to manipulate them.”

“Eh, courts tend to be full of self-important people working their own agendas already, what’s the harm in adding a mage to the mix?” Jaskier froze, glancing at Ciri. “Not that I’m aiming to speak ill of Cintra; in my time there it was usually a positive experience—” He paused when he realized Ciri didn’t seem to be with them. “Fiona?”

She looked up at Yennefer. “I want to learn to control my magic.”

Yennefer looked a little startled, but nodded. “I can see what I can do.” She smiled sardonically. “Around the time I first met Jaskier and Geralt, I turned down Tissaia’s offer to teach at Aretuza, but now I think I can make an exception for one pupil.”

“Good.” Ciri smiled, but there was still something serious to her expression. “I want to learn how to control…this. Whatever it is.”

Before anything else could be said, Geralt emerged from the trees. “I brought enough for everyone.” He went about preparing the rabbits he’d caught and arranging them over the fire. They still hadn’t talked since the conversation on the road earlier, but since he’d heard of Geralt’s injury Jaskier was watching him closely. Did he wince when he squatted over the fire?

“So Geralt.” Golden eyes reflected the firelight when they looked up at him and Jaskier nearly lost his nerve. “Fiona said you were injured. Were you going to tell us?”

Geralt looked away. “It’s already healing.” He glanced toward Yennefer. “Triss helped. She did good work after the striga, so I trust her now.”

Yennefer nodded. “Triss is good with healing magic. Spoke highly of you too.”

“They wondered where you were.” Everyone turned to Ciri, who was watching Yennefer. “They said you disappeared after the battle.”

“The trouble with chaos is that it can be hard to predict, especially when you expend a great deal of it.” Yennefer’s expression was odd, but then she looked to Jaskier with a small smile. “I ended up alright though, even if you were too drunk to know where we were.”

“Hey.” Jaskier smiled, then thought. “Ironically enough, darling, based on the rest of our journey, we might have been right outside Rinde. Went a bit better this time, considering neither of us nearly died this time.”

“Rinde was where I first met Geralt and Jaskier.” Yennefer explained for Ciri, who looked confused. “It was…an uneasy time for us all. I’d suggest staying away from anything involving djinn or their magic. They’ll grant your wishes, but typically manipulate and corrupt them too.”

Ever the observant one when it came to odd tensions in the group and thus doubtlessly noticing what was settling over them now, especially Geralt going still, Ciri just nodded.

“Yes.” Jaskier looked across the fire again. “And speaking of injuries from magical creatures that nearly killed people, Geralt. What attacked you?”

“The dead, rising from their graves with dark magic.” Geralt looked serious as he’d ever been; there was a flash of what might have been relief from the topic change. “With deadly bites.” His hand brushed his thigh in a gesture that looked almost unconscious.

“No wonder you’re moving slowly.” Jaskier got up and moved to Roach, the old familiarity slipping back as he started opening her saddlebags.

Behind him, Yennefer sounded concerned. “Fringilla was serious when she said Nilfgaard had no limits on their magic then. I’d hate to think the Brotherhood was right in any of their decisions, but if one hit can nearly fell a witcher….” Her voice went soft, deep in thought. “Should some magic be forbidden?”

Jaskier glanced up from Roach’s saddlebags. “Seriously, if this is all the progress you’ve made, you’re moving slowly. Do you need a healing potion?”

“I already used one.” Geralt’s voice was gruff, but not hostile. “And Jaskier, be careful—”

“I know, witcher potions are dangerous for non-witchers.” Jaskier rolled his eyes as he returned to the fire, giving up on making Geralt take anything for now. “I believe the exact quote was ‘Bard, if one of those so much as spills on your skin, I won’t have to kill you because you’ll already be dead.’ Easy to remember because it was the most words you’d said to me at once at that point.” He looked up at Geralt, still feeling a little irritated. “I still think you’re exaggerating.”

“I’d rather not risk you by finding out.” Yennefer was concerned when she looked at Jaskier, but curious when she looked at Geralt. “What is in them? Does anyone besides witchers know how to make them anymore?”

“Probably not.” Geralt looked at the fire. “Most ingredients are poisonous to non-witchers.”

“Why didn’t you warn me then?” Ciri looked at Geralt, guarded interest in her eyes.

“You seem to have a decent sense of self preservation.” Without looking away from Ciri, Geralt tipped his head toward Jaskier. “He didn’t, especially at first.”

“You’re one to talk.” Jaskier grumbled.

“You’d be surprised.” Yennefer seemed a bit smug. “Did you even realize that the bard is armed now? With silver and steel?”

Geralt’s eyes snapped to Jaskier. “What?”

Jaskier sighed, but allowed himself a little flourish as he pulled out his daggers from their hidden sheaths and flipped them in his hands. “Turns out having hands nimble from decades of instrument playing can be good for other things too.”

“Many other things.” Yennefer smirked at him, and Jaskier was about to flirt back when—

“Not in front of Fiona.” Geralt’s voice was rough, and Jaskier got a bit of satisfaction from the feeling that this wasn’t really about Geralt’s Child Surprise.

Especially when said Child Surprise scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I was raised by Calanthe and Eist. I’ve heard far worse from him on a quiet day. It was gross, but he said it.” She smiled at the memory, but it seemed to sour at the reminder of what was lost now. 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group for a moment before Geralt spoke. “We should eat.” He pulled the rabbits off the fire, not seeming interested in looking at anyone now. “Then rest. We’ll need our strength for traveling tomorrow.”

No one was quite sure where to take the conversation after that, so they all settled into quiet as they ate. Eventually Yennefer began to tell Ciri more of magic, and Jaskier played another song about Yennefer before they settled into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very unrelated, but props to people who write music. I tried to do four lines for this and I was just like rhythm? Rhyme? This is harder than story writing, for me at least. So props to the lyricists out there, you're awesome!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Last chapter's bit of the group all coming together was fun, right? They're a weird little found family but a fun one to write. There's more where that came from...
> 
> I really like these next two chapters, but that may not mean it's enjoyable for you (but maybe it will, if you like some angst)

Geralt took the first watch again. Jaskier had looked like he was going to complain now that he knew Geralt was injured, but it really was healing well.

He’d still have Vesemir confirm everything was alright once they reached Kaer Morhen though.

Most of the night was quiet. Ciri slept soundly. Yennefer and Jaskier slept on their sides, curled towards each other. Jaskier’s back was to Geralt as he faced Yennefer, and Geralt could just make out how their hands tangled together between their bodies. He thought of the mornings when he and Jaskier had shared a bed in an inn to save coin, or huddled together on colder nights at campsites, when waking with the bard tangled around him almost became familiar, comfortable. How it was different from how he and Yennefer usually spoke softly and had quiet moments together in bed, but would sleep with space between them, always ready to leave without waking the other.

Geralt wondered if he’d ever have either of those experiences again.

The year after the mountain, before he’d found Ciri, had been quiet. He wasn’t used to quiet, not anymore. Geralt had been alone much of his life, but he hadn’t been this lonely. He’d missed Yennefer and Jaskier both, but didn’t know how to seek them out, or if it would be welcome.

He’d been callous, on the mountaintop. The stress of danger, of both of them being in peril with others traveling being murdered, then Borch, Téa, and Véa dying in front of them with Geralt unable to prevent it… He’d belittled Yennefer’s interest in motherhood, and later losing her made him lash out at Jaskier. Perhaps making others leave seemed like control in a time when he felt a dangerous lack of it. Acting out of desperate emotion, just like when he’d use the last djinn wish to ensure that Yennefer would not be taken away from him in an attempt to save her life, only for the djinn to contort that wish just as it had his first, unintentional wish.

Perhaps Geralt didn’t deserve either of them. Witchers weren’t supposed to make these connections after all. The Path was solitary.

But having had a taste of companionship, Geralt wanted it.

In his peripheral vision, Geralt saw Ciri moving, small pained noises coming from her mouth as her heartbeat and breathing sped up. Another nightmare, probably likely to pass like the others had.

Until the wind began to whirl. Ciri, eyes still closed as her hair and cloak whipped around her, began to float. She seemed to be mumbling in her sleep now. The branches of the trees around them creaked and groaned.

“What’s going on?” Yennefer’s voice was half a shout as she tried to be heard over the wind.

“It’s Ciri!” Geralt kept his eyes on her as she continued to rise above the ground. “She was having a nightmare, normally they pass but not like this.”

“Woah!” There was something like awe in Jaskier’s voice. “She really must have her mother’s gift; it’s like the wedding banquet!”

“When it took Mousesack and I together to disrupt it?” Geralt looked at Yennefer. “We need to get her down before she tears apart the whole forest!” Yennefer nodded, violet eyes grim.

“Wait!” They both looked to Jaskier where Yennefer had him half sheltered under her body. “Let me try something!”

“No!” Geralt shook his head, shouting over the wind. “It’s too dangerous!”

“Do you trust me?” Jaskier’s eyes were serious when they met Geralt’s.

The answer was automatic. “Yes!”

There was something like relief in Jaskier’s eyes, then he turned to Yennefer. “Darling, I need to stand for this. Be ready to slow her descent if necessary.” He looked back to Geralt. “Be ready to catch her as she comes down.”

Geralt nodded. Ciri had nearly reached the treetops, but he would ensure no harm would come to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jaskier stand, bracing himself against the wind even as Yennefer and Geralt stayed close to the ground.

He rose to his full height and began to sing, his voice soft but strong, just like him.

_I can hear the cannons calling  
As though across a dream  
And I can smell the smoke of hell  
In every stitch and seam  
And like flowers, the bodies tumble  
Around this muddied lot  
I cannot hear them scream  
Forget me not_

As he progressed through the first verse, there didn’t seem to be much effect. Jaskier shielded his face with his arms as the smaller branches loosened from the trees and joined the whirling wind, but he continued singing.

_Your voice it carries over  
The hubbub and the hum  
And it paints the sky and circles high  
Like the beating of a drum  
You will scream “I won’t forget you”  
But I’ll cover my cold ears  
It cannot be a lie if no-one hears_

Ciri’s ascent had stopped. Was the wind starting to slow? Jaskier’s voice continued to ring out, gentle among the swirling wind.

_Cos although you say good day to me  
I know I don’t belong  
And although you hold my hand and say   
“I love you” you are wrong  
Because love does not exist here  
In this garden there’s no feeling  
And you say the words so often  
That I barely know the meaning  
And when all the flowers are rotten  
And all the cannons shot  
I’ll scream but you won’t hear  
“Forget me not”_

Ciri had started to descend, the slowing wind easing her way down even as Yennefer readied herself in case Ciri’s own magic failed to protect her. Jaskier continued to sing, his voice growing softer as it no longer had to compete with the howling wind.

_And in years to come you’ll wander  
To the place up on our hill  
And then you’ll cry to our painted sky  
“I loved him then, I love him still”  
And you’ll strew some sage and lilies  
And roses where I rot,  
Of all the flowers you picked,  
I knew you would forget  
Forget-me-nots._

By the final lines, Ciri was safely in Geralt’s arms, guided slightly by Yennefer’s magic. Jaskier had followed her as his voice grew softer, and after the final word he smoothed some of Ciri’s hair off of her forehead and lightly pressed a kiss there before stepping back. There was a moment where her face stirred as if she was about to wake up, but then she settled once more, seemingly peacefully asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, the song is "Elsa's Song" from The Amazing Devil's first album. Here's a link to it in case you want to get the experience for the fic chapter (it's even Joey Batey himself singing it): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDN8yYWAZI4 
> 
> I was having trouble finding a song for Jaskier to sing initially, but this fits so well. Remember the lyrics...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did everyone give the song a listen? Might not be necessary since the lyrics are all last chapter, but I do hope you paid attention to those lyrics, cuz Geralt and Yennefer certainly did...

Geralt carefully cradled Ciri to his chest, unsure what would happen if he let go of the teen. Still, he nodded at Jaskier gratefully. “Thank you.”

Jaskier’s smile was soft. “Thank you for trusting me enough to try.”

“How did you know it would work?” Yennefer slipped against Jaskier’s side, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning against him as he moved his arm over her, as if they both could use the reassurance that he was alright. 

The twist in Geralt’s chest was back as Jaskier turned that soft smile back to Yennefer. “What, you’ve never heard of singing a lullaby to ease someone out of a nightmare?”

“Sounded more like a mourning song.” Geralt looked away, deciding that figuring out how to get Ciri onto her bedroll without disrupting her sleep demanded his full focus.

“Both are meant to soothe.” Jaskier’s voice was soft. “And you’d be surprised how many of the darkest tales are saved to be told to children. Stories of monsters and death.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Yennefer snorted. “No one told me stories as a child.”

“I was told stories of monsters as a child.” With Ciri settled, Geralt stood again. “Followed by ways to kill them, which we were made to memorize since it would be life or death. Ours and everyone else’s.”

When he looked up, Jaskier was looking between him and Yennefer with a pained expression. “I can see why none of us speak of our childhoods.” Before Geralt could wonder about Jaskier including himself in that, the bard shifted to rub his hands together. “Well after that excitement, I’m tired. If we’re to be on the road early, we should get back to sleep. Yennefer?” He looked at her expectantly, and something in him seemed…rattled.

“Where was that song from?” Geralt watched Jaskier closely. “I didn’t recognize it.”

Jaskier’s smile had a pained edge to it. “Even if they aren’t as often requested as dancing songs, heroic tales, or love ballads, every bard of any value must know some mournful songs.”

“Was it one of yours?” Jaskier wasn’t looking at Geralt or Yennefer, even as her expression turned piercing with her question.

“What, think I would relate to the tale of someone unsure of their lover’s affections, worried they’ll be forgotten after death as the others live on?” Jaskier’s voice had a forced lightness to it, and he settled onto the bedroll without making eye contact. “Not everything has to be direct experience.” He shifted, glancing back at Yennefer. “Time to get back to sleep, darling?”

She glanced up at Geralt uncertainly; they’d agreed to switch partway through the night, but…

“I’ll keep watch. You two sleep.” Geralt settled back into something like a meditation pose, swords nearby.

Yennefer nodded gratefully, laying down beside Jaskier. He drew himself close to her, tucking his head against her neck, and they wrapped their arms around each other and let their legs tangle together as if with practiced ease.

It was quiet, for a while. Geralt listened to Ciri’s steady breathing and heartrate, Yennefer’s staying the same as well, even as Jaskier’s slowed to the familiar rhythms of his sleep.

All quiet, until Geralt felt a gentle yet insistent brush against his mind. _Geralt._

He and Yennefer had done this before, so her mental voice was familiar. _Yennefer._

Through the darkness, he could see violet eyes watching him over Jaskier’s head. _Have you not spoken with him yet?_

_We only had the time alone together this morning. And then, he did more speaking than listening._ Geralt thought back to that morning, to all of the words that had poured out of Jaskier. _He had much that needed to be said._

There was amusement from Yennefer. _He does that._ Her mental voice turned serious. _I hope you listened._

_I did._ Geralt looked at Jaskier, the soft movement of his back as he breathed steadily in his sleep. _I’ll be more careful with my words this time._

The last time did not need to be spoken, even in thought. _Good._

Geralt hesitated before continuing. _I should have been more careful with my words to you as well. When you said why you were after the dragon._

There was a moment of something hard to read from her. _You certainly should have been gentler with how you expressed your ideas. But…_ Yennefer looked away. _I was perhaps too caught up in the idea to consider it fully. I’m still not happy they took my choice, but…_ Yennefer looked to Ciri, then to Jaskier, her hand stroking his back, before violet eyes met Geralt’s. _There are other ways to be important to someone._

His own words in the tent echoed back to Geralt, but he couldn’t help the twist in his chest that Yennefer didn’t seem to include him this time. Maybe Jaskier and Yennefer deserved each other more than he deserved either of them. Jaskier could give her soft words, and Yennefer could give him open affection. He’d done nothing to compromise her choices or independence, and she could give him tales to sing of without pain. Perhaps the only good Geralt had done in either of their lives was bringing them together. 

_Stop getting so far in your head._ Yennefer’s voice drew his attention back to the silhouettes he could make out across the moonlit clearing. _I can’t even pull the words out when you wallow like that, and he,_ her hand tightened almost protectively against Jaskier’s back, _will get nothing. Good as he may be at deciphering your brooding, he won’t hear words unless you speak them._

_True._ Geralt knew it, but it didn’t make it any easier. _What did you think of the song?_ Jaskier seemed to rarely sing something that wasn’t his own work, unless it was exceedingly common and requested, but the song to Ciri had been wholly unfamiliar.

_I didn’t know it either, and I’ve become quite familiar with him lately._ Yennefer still seemed serious when she looked at him. _I wouldn’t think we were at that point, and it may very well be about you, but…_

But some part of her wanted it to be about her. _Jaskier falls in love quick and deep, and all consuming. I should know; I’ve seen it enough times._

_You only didn’t see it when it was directed at you._ There was something like a scoff in Yennefer’s mental voice.

_What?_ Jaskier’s earlier words shifted into focus, the confession that had been buried underneath so much else Geralt almost missed it. **You still make me ache.** Could it be that after all this time…Geralt had wondered, of course, but Jaskier always had company when he sought it. Any pretty face or kind soul from whatever court or tavern he set foot in would fall for Jaskier if he turned his attention to them, and he'd fall for them just as easily. Why would he want a witcher, a monstrous, mutated, unfeeling outcast? But why would he have stayed so long if not, and why would he talk and sing about Geralt like that, talk to him like that? _I never realized…_

_I thought as much._ Yennefer’s words were almost smug now, but there was something softer underneath, as if she could actually read the deeper thoughts too. _But you’re right, about what it’s like when he falls for you. Like having the warmth of the sun turned upon you; fearing the burn but wanting to absorb it all anyways._ Yennefer’s mental voice was soft, and in the dark Geralt saw her hands stroking up and down the bard’s back where he curled against her, one hand stopping its wandering to curl into Jaskier’s hair. 

Geralt had noticed how much colder the last year had seemed. Even so close now, he missed Jaskier’s warmth. _And he has been thinking of his own mortality lately. He told me as much._

He could practically feel the static of chaos that charged the air with Yennefer processing the thought. _It won’t be soon if I can help it._

_Nor I._ The thought came automatically, before Geralt could truly consider it. He definitely didn’t want Jaskier gone, but did Jaskier truly want Geralt around? He was still angry with him from a year ago, perhaps rightfully so. And now he and Yennefer had found something good in each other. Maybe Geralt shouldn’t interfere with it…

_Now you’re thinking too loudly._ Geralt looked back to Yennefer at the return of her voice. _Stop trying to make everyone’s choices for them about if they should stay or go. Be honest with him, and let him decide._ The soft tone sharpened. _But know that if you hurt him again, I’ll return it tenfold._

Things had certainly changed between her and Jaskier. _Understood._ He didn’t want to hurt Jaskier, never really had.

As if picking up on the thoughts he hadn’t consciously shared, Yennefer’s tone was soft again. _Sleep, Geralt. I’ll keep watch._

He looked at where she was tangled with Jaskier. _Are you sure?_

_I’m quick to protect what’s mine. Now rest before I have to enchant you to; we all know you get grumpy when tired._ She waited for his nod, and he felt her presence pull from his mind.

Alone in his own head again, Geralt thought over her words as he laid out his bedroll and prepared to sleep. Was it another threat against hurting Jaskier? A sign she didn’t trust him? Or was he included under her protection? 

Sleep was slow to come to him, and uneasy when it arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like exploring the mind reading but idk if you know a better way to italics but that is time consuming; props to people who know html tricks cuz my basic knowledge is just helping me slide by here. But anyways, some fun insight into our adult trio here, right? The only monsters Geralt doesn't know how to kill are his inner demons I guess.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Are you ready for more found family shenannigans? (which honestly could probably be added to this fic as a tag; believe it or not from what you've read so far but fluff is very much my wheelhouse). Anyways, time for some family moments with a nice bit of Yennefer/Jaskier at the end

The next morning as they traveled, Jaskier drew their attention like he was making an announcement. “We’ll be staying at an inn tonight.”

Fiona looked over at him skeptically. “Isn’t it better to avoid populated areas if we’re trying to keep a low profile?”

“Maybe.” He looked over at her. “But we can stay in a smaller town.”

“It can be easier to get lost when you’re among crowds actually.” Yennefer looked to Fiona, who seemed to paying close attention.

“If you can blend with crowds.” Geralt stayed by Roach’s side and Yennefer frowned. Was he actually showing signs of being injured still? Favoring one leg? 

“Well lucky for you, some of us can, and you only need one person to talk to the innkeeper to get rooms for us all.” Jaskier looked around the group. “Two rooms should be fine.”

Geralt frowned. “And where are you getting coin for this?”

“The same way I always do.” Jaskier strummed his lute for emphasis; he’d been idly testing songs as they walked. Yennefer really was liking his new material.

“But won’t that draw too much attention to us?” They all turned to Fiona again. “If you’ve already seen scouts from Nilfgaard this far north, then we could encounter more. And if the doppler knew everything Mousesack knew, they know to look for Geralt too.”

Yennefer looked between her and Geralt. “When was there a doppler?”

“Before I met Geralt; the doppler took on Mousesack’s form and tried to capture me, but Dara and I managed to get away.” Fiona looked away, her voice pained. “Then Dara left.”

“Already fighting off monsters; you’ll fit in well at Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier smiled, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. “But have no fear; Yennefer and I are able to avoid detection, and as I have no plans of singing of the White Wolf tonight, no one will be the wiser about who we are. After all, why would the witcher’s bard be signing of Yennefer of Vengerberg, the greatest mage to ever grace a court?”

Yennefer smiled despite herself. “That’s a new one.”

Jaskier winked. “Nothing less than you deserve, darling.”

“I don’t understand why we need to stay in an inn tonight.” Geralt’s voice was gruff, perhaps more so than usual. Yennefer made note of that for later.

“It’s simple.” Jaskier turned to look at him, walking backwards with apparently little effort. “Resting in real beds is good sometimes, and if we’re going to get a good look at your injury it’d be best not to do it by a dusty fireside if instead we could go to a decently-lit, not horribly dirty inn.”

“He’s got a point.” Yennefer ignored Geralt’s glare. “It could be good, plus we’d be able to hear updates on the war from the gossip in town.” Plus, if she and Jaskier were in a separate room there were other things they could do, but she wouldn’t torture Geralt unnecessarily by mentioning that. Although Jaskier did say two rooms, so maybe it could be an enjoyable night after all…

Fiona looked between them cautiously. “That makes sense. I’ll listen to you; I don’t think I’ve really been in an inn before.”

“Then it’s settled.” Jaskier nodded, satisfied, before turning to Geralt. “You’ve been outvoted; we’ll be at an inn tonight.”

\-----

As they arrived in town in the late afternoon, everyone was alert. Jaskier had offered to go in advance to scout it out, but he’d been outvoted. It was fine; Geralt had his cloak on so he wouldn’t stand out quite so much, and Ciri’s cloak was bright but if she stayed with Geralt she’d be safe. And with Jaskier’s current outfit, it wasn’t like she was the only one brightly dressed. He looked toward her and Geralt. “You two take Roach to the stables; Yennefer and I will get our rooms at the inn.”

“We shouldn’t split up.” Geralt held onto Roach’s reigns, stopping and making the rest of the group stop too.

Yennefer seemed to understand Jaskier, thankfully. “If it is unsafe for Fiona here, you’ll be with the horse in case you need to run. Jaskier and I getting the rooms is the least conspicuous option.”

“Exactly.” Jaskier could hear the edge of smugness in his voice, but teaming up with Yennefer against Geralt was oddly satisfying. Plus, they were right.

Geralt glared at them a moment before deflating slightly. “Fine.”

“Good.” Jaskier smiled, definitely feeling a bit smug now. “We’ll meet you at the inn. If we suspect any lack of safety that doesn’t require running, we’ll hide you two in your room while we gather information and I play to get us some coin. We’ve got that part of the routine down at least.”

Ciri was quiet again, her shrewd green eyes taking in the three of them and their surroundings. Jaskier absently wondered if she’d traveled much before the fall of Cintra; if her only experience outside the palace or trips to Skellige was being on the run or in the woods with Geralt, even this little town could be a lot to take in.

Deciding it would be best to get them settled, Jaskier clapped Geralt on the shoulder. “Right then. We’ll see you soon. Maybe you’ll even get to watch me perform tonight.” He said it with a cheeky grin, expecting an eye roll, but when he only got a terse nod in response, he dropped his hand and let it reach down to take Yennefer’s hand instead. “Let’s go get us some rooms, darling.”

As they split up, Yennefer fell into step next to Jaskier. “So two rooms?”

“Yes.” He looked at her with a wink. “I imagined we may want to enjoy ourselves. It’s been a few days since we had the chance.”

Yennefer eyed the inn as they approached; it looked on the small side. “We’ll probably end up with rooms next to each other. Geralt might hear.”

“Let him.” Jaskier scoffed. “With witcher hearing, he’d probably hear us no matter where we were in the inn.”

“I knew I liked you, bard.” Yennefer smirked in a way that was almost a smile. “Your boldness is so much more fun when you aren’t trying to insult me with it, not that you ever truly succeeded there.”

“That was fun, although I think we’ve learned it’s more fun to annoy people together, especially when people means Geralt.” Jaskier laughed, but he felt a bit of bitterness creep in at the end. “Besides, it’s not like I didn’t see or hear you two enough times.”

“What?” He could feel violet eyes boring into the side of his head. “I understand hear, that’s bound to happen in close quarters. But see?”

“Ah, about that…” Jaskier tried to look away, but her hand still gripped in his tugged until he looked back at her. “Fine. It was in Rinde, the first time, after the djinn. When the house collapsed, we thought you were dead, but then the elf healer saw through a basement window that you two were alive. I went to see and, well…” Jaskier looked away, sure the tips of his ears were going pink. “He pulled me away; I didn’t see much.”

“Would you have stayed and watched if he wasn’t there to pull you away?” Yennefer’s voice was difficult to read.

“It had been a very trying day, I wasn’t quite with it—“ Jaskier cut himself off with a sigh, remembering something she’d said about mages being able to read minds. No use in lying, really. “Fine, I probably would have. Maybe not for the full time, but a little longer than I did at least. I may have been upset that Geralt seemed to develop more feeling for someone he’d known one day than he had for me in over fifteen years, but it’s no secret that I consider you two to be probably the most attractive man and woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. You made quite the sight.” He finally looked over at Yennefer, not sure what to expect.

She was smirking, amusement clear in her violet eyes. “Interesting.”

“So you’re not going to smite me somehow?” Jaskier watched her curiously, the inn all but forgotten. “Curse me blind for daring to look?”

“Oh no.” Yennefer used her free hand to cup his jaw and pull him in for a quick kiss, breaking it but staying close enough to whisper in his ear. “Geralt might be embarrassed if he knew, but I’m rather into it. So what do you say we put on a show for our witcher tonight?”

“Oh, Yennefer.” Jaskier pulled her in for another quick kiss. “I can’t remember how I ever disliked you.” He met her eyes and smirked. “You know how I love to perform. I think we’re in for an enjoyable night all around.”

“Good.” Yennefer grinned, then turned back to the inn. “Let’s get our rooms. You can even bargain your playing for the rooms I bet; this town doesn’t seem like they’ve seen the likes of you before.”

“I’ll be sure to give them a performance they’ll never forget.” He smiled, looking over at her through half-lidded eyes. “Then I’ll do an equally memorable encore.”

“This is shaping up to be our best night yet.” Yennefer grinned, leading them into the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda fun to play with perspectives; Geralt and Jaskier both (to varying degrees) were around people calling Ciri "Ciri" before she went on the run and switched to Fiona, so I write them thinking of her as Ciri but mostly still calling her Fiona like she requested for public stuff (the fun is figuring out when they'd be distracted or distressed enough to mess up), but Yennefer had never met her before and had barely heard of her, so I realized when Yennefer met Ciri and she was like "call me Fiona" Yennefer might just think "I guess her name's Fiona" and roll with it. So that's your behind-the-scenes commentary for today, for the first part of the chapter at least.
> 
> The commentary for the second part of the chapter is just me shrugging and pointing to when Yennefer conjured an audience to watch her and Istredd.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy last update of July everyone! This month went by fast right? Time is nothing this year, but wow. Anyways, who’s up for some fluff?

It wasn’t long after that they met Geralt and Ciri in the tavern area on the ground floor of the inn. They’d already left their packs upstairs; they’d been tempted to christen the room as well, but figured they wouldn’t have much time before Geralt and Ciri finished with Roach. It wouldn’t do to have the two of them worrying about Yennefer and Jaskier while they were just having some fun upstairs.

So Geralt and Ciri came in, cloaks still on, to Yennefer and Jaskier sipping their glasses of wine downstairs. Yennefer nodded at them. “You can drop the hoods; it’s alright here.”

They did as she said, pure white and white-blonde hair seeming to shine even the low light of the inn. There was probably a song in there somewhere; _the White Wolf and the Lion Cub…_ Jaskier could work on that later, not that he’d be able to play it anytime soon without attracting suspicion. For now, he smiled. “Which also means you’ll get to see me become the most exciting thing this little town has ever seen tonight.” He sat back, looking at Ciri. “Courts may be fun, but taverns and small town inns always have a different sort of energy. It’s fun.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” She almost did look a little excited; Jaskier resolved to give it his all tonight. Or perhaps not all; had to save something for the performance afterward…

“Excellent.” He grinned, then let it drop. “But first, Geralt, let’s see your leg.”

He glared at Jaskier. “Here?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No, upstairs. We got two rooms; you’re right next to Yennefer and I.” He stood, draining the rest of his wine. “Let’s go.”

He led the way upstairs, opening the door to Geralt and Ciri’s room while Yennefer ducked into their room so see if they’d have anything useful in their packs.

Once they were settled into the rooms, Ciri looking around curiously, Jaskier turned to Geralt. “Alright, now let’s get a look. Sit on the bed and take off your trousers.”

“No.” Geralt crossed his arms.

“Calm down, Geralt, it’s not like Jaskier and I haven’t both seen you wearing less than that before.” Yennefer entered the room, rolling her eyes. “We only need to see your thigh, right? Just take off your trousers and leave the rest if you’re suddenly embarrassed. Fiona can look away, but again, Jaskier and I have seen it all before.”

Ciri looked between the three of them curiously, but with a slight assessing edge that reminded Jaskier of Calanthe. “Were you…?”

“If I understand how you were about to finish that sentence properly, then it’s no for Geralt and I, yes for Yennefer and Geralt but not anymore, and now yes for Yennefer and I.” When she still looked confused, Jaskier decided to explain. “Sometimes when two people spend over twenty years traveling together they end up helping each other when injured, or seeing each other when bathing.” He smirked. “Especially when one of them needs help washing guts out of his luscious locks after getting swallowed whole by a beast and cutting his way out.” Despite himself, Jaskier reached out and flicked Geralt’s hair with a smile.

Geralt glared at him, but it was playful, or at least it seemed to be if Jaskier was back to being able to read Geralt. “It’s the best way to kill a selkimore.”

“So you say.” Jaskier pushed Geralt down to sit on the bed and nodded for Yennefer to continue while he turned to Ciri to distract her. “Did you know that that very thing happened the morning of your parent’s wedding feast in Cintra? The one person who saw the fight start was convinced Geralt had met his end and was doing an alright job telling the tale, really getting the details down, but I knew Geralt would live, despite what our storyteller said.”

Ciri looked bemused. “Geralt was fighting a monster the morning before he was supposed to attend a royal banquet?”

“Ah.” Jaskier held up a hand. “He didn’t know yet that he’d be attending. I was invited to play, and asked him to come with me.”

“To protect him from the various angry nobles he’d cuckolded.” Geralt’s voice was gruff, but when Jaskier looked back Yennefer had succeeded in getting him to strip enough to see the wound. It did look bad.

But it was best to keep Ciri distracted. “Perhaps, but he ended up attracting more attention than I for a bit. I’d gone to the trouble of getting him something new to wear, but Mousesack recognized him right away anyways. I never knew they were old friends.”

“Neither did I.” Ciri looked at Geralt curiously. “He never spoke of you.”

Geralt looked grim, and Jaskier had to guess it had nothing to do with the injury or the magic Yennefer was using to inspect it. “I don’t think Calanthe liked me very much. She probably told him not to speak of me to you.”

Sensing the possible shift in mood, Jaskier tried to steer the story once more. “But you wouldn’t have guessed it that night; Geralt was invited to sit at the high table.”

“Really?” Yennefer looked up at Geralt incredulously. “That’s hard to imagine.”

“I think Calanthe wanted someone at the high table that she could talk about fighting with.” Geralt looked at Ciri. “This was before she and Eist were together.”

“Although they also married that night.” Jaskier smiled. “The whole thing made for spectacular ballad material really, especially with the fighting in the middle.” Jaskier turned to Ciri again. “That was when Geralt saved your father’s life, which is what led to him claiming the Law of Surprise as payment for the life debt, which,” he looked around, “which is basically what leads us here really.”

“Hmm.” Ciri looked between them and Jaskier tried not to laugh at her already picking things up from Geralt. She settled on Geralt. “Why didn’t you stay? Or come back for me until recently?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “The life of a witcher isn’t suited for a child. It was best that you stayed with your family while you could.”

Jaskier met Yennefer’s eyes, both of them believing that it wasn’t the whole truth but not wanting to say anything. Instead, Jaskier patted Ciri on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, he left me behind in Cintra that night too.”

Geralt glared at him. “You’d already found companionship for the night by the time I left, as I remember it.”

“Eh, maybe.” Jaskier looked down to where Yennefer was re-covering the wound. “How does it look? I mean I saw it and it’s an ugly wound—”

“It was a bite from something undead.” Geralt helpfully added, and Jaskier rolled his eyes and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“—but is it healing alright?” He leaned closer. “Should I take a look?”

“No, like we thought, the remaining damage is more magical than physical, so it’s more my area of expertise than yours.” She stood up, brushing her hands off. “It does seem to be healing well; Triss must have done good work, along with Geralt’s already enhanced healing abilities.”

“Good.” Jaskier feels himself standing a little straighter, like it was an actual weight off of his back. He let himself smile. “One less thing to think about as I perform tonight.” He looked around the room, from Ciri still watching all of them closely to where Geralt had pulled his trousers fully back on, then back to Yennefer. “Let’s get ready then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More commentary, if you’d like: figuring out what clothing terms to use is always interesting. Like I’ll admit to not really researching and just going British English v American English here (for trousers/pants) but what actually determines what’s anachronistic in a fantasy world? That’s only half a rhetorical question; feel free to share opinions on historical clothing terminology or whatever else in the comments


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that fluff last chapter cuz this chapter just takes a bit of a turn. Geralt's got some stuff to work though, you know? Not that he's gonna work on it yet, but he'll get there. Eventually.

Geralt settled into his bed, looking over to where Ciri was already asleep on the bed further from the door. She’d seemed to enjoy watching Jaskier perform, and while he hadn’t said anything Geralt had too. It was good to see the bard in his element, dancing around and charming crowds. Seeing him stop by their table for kisses from Yennefer was… less enjoyable.

Still, Ciri hadn’t smiled that much the whole time he’d traveled with her, and maybe that made Geralt feel more able to ignore the twisting in his chest. For all that he’d avoided her before, now Geralt didn’t want to let Ciri out of his sight. He’d quickly developed the same sort of warm protectiveness toward her that he felt toward Jaskier and Yennefer, but it was different somehow. It wasn’t a feeling he had often; perhaps similar to what he felt for Roach, or the other witchers…

But it was definitely different with Jaskier and Yennefer. He’d been separated from both of them before, but the mountain brought a sort of finality that brought a new ache at their absence.

And now they were so close, yet there was still a distance. They both still fretted over his injury, Jaskier more visibly than Yennefer, but he’d noticed the care she took in looking the injury over.

He heard them come upstairs and into their room; Ciri had started to grow tired before Jaskier had finished, so Geralt had brought her upstairs and decided to stay with her. It was mostly to protect her just in case, but if it also got him away from the looks Jaskier and Yennefer were sharing while he performed…

He’d seen that hungry look in those violet eyes often enough, back when it was usually turned on him. And he knew how often performing led Jaskier to someone’s bed.

So perhaps he should have expected the noises coming from the other side of the wall. They were familiar noises after all; he’d been in inns when Jaskier went to someone else’s room often enough, and he used to draw those noises out of Yennefer himself.

Well, maybe not that one. That one was new.

Geralt shifted, cursing everything his senses could detect as he tried to control his body’s response. He couldn’t, not with Ciri here. If he were alone, perhaps, but…

No. He looked over to see Ciri still soundly asleep; he wasn’t sure if she was just exhausted, or if to someone without witcher senses this wouldn’t seem so loud. He really shouldn’t act on this. Besides, how would he face Jaskier and Yennefer the next day if he did _that_ while they were just trying to enjoy themselves? There were already enough reasons for them to hate him without him invading their privacy and enjoying himself to things that he was probably never meant to hear. 

How much longer could it go on?

Geralt tried to ignore it, but wondered if after would be worse. He’d still be able to hear, and afterwards, when they were in bed and still catching their breath but already separated…It was the only time Yennefer seemed to allow her defenses to truly drop, to get fully vulnerable.

Geralt missed it. Her vulnerability brought out his own, and it was rare. Perhaps even rarer, he felt she truly understood him. And listened.

It wasn’t something Geralt had often. The other witchers understood, sure, but they’d never talk about it. They’d all hold on to their own frustrations, then spar together to let it out. A nod or pat on the shoulder afterwards was the most it would ever be acknowledged.

Then there was Jaskier. He’d listen to Geralt, with more care than perhaps anyone had ever bothered to show Geralt before or possibly ever. He’d know when to ask questions, and usually when not to pry. He would try his best to understand, but there were some experiences Jaskier would never have. And Geralt was glad for it; he wouldn’t want to imagine what something like witcher trials would do to Jaskier, if he even survived.

That was an uncomfortable thought.

But it wouldn’t happen, not anytime soon. Geralt would protect him, if he could.

And Yennefer would. Geralt trusted that; he knew how much she’d lost, and how little she’d ever really had to begin with. If she had something that she considered precious, she wouldn’t let it go. It was part of how they’d seemed to understand each other; both having suffered and lost, and carrying the scars from it, but not truly giving up. Still taking what they could from life, even if she was bolder in her approach than Geralt.

On the other side of the wall, the sounds were quieting down. Perhaps it was over.

The only sounds Geralt heard now were the soft sounds of bodies settling into sheets together, a blanket being pulled over top.

Then the quiet conversation. It made the ache in Geralt’s chest come back. He felt like he was intruding, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Why did you never just settle at court? You could have after the mountain even, probably still could now.” Yennefer’s voice was soft, and it felt like they were continuing a conversation Geralt had never heard the start of.

Jaskier’s answering laugh was soft. “You spent what, thirty years at court? What was your general impression?”

A long pause. “A lot of show, not much substance. People using each other without caring mostly, but exceptions existed.” She scoffed. “I left after a king killed his queen for having another daughter though, so I can certainly attest to the not caring.”

“Exactly.” There was the sound of two bodies shifting closer together. “All false fronts, none of the fun kind of performing. And always conforming to rigid expectations, trying to be a certain way.”

There was a soft laugh from Yennefer. “With all those rhymes you’ve practically got a new song already.”

“One I could never play, but perhaps.” An answering laugh, equally soft, before he did begin singing softly. _“Always wanting you to be a certain way, Always expecting you to sit and staaayy.”_

“Not good for a songbird like you.” A quiet sound, maybe a kiss. “You’ve just got to stretch your wings, haven’t you?”

“You know me so well.” Geralt could imagine Jaskier’s smile. “And all of this is just so much…realer. More genuine. I never have to pretend to be someone else, not unless I want to. It’s…”

“Freeing?” Yennefer’s voice was soft, and Geralt knew that tone, the quiet one she only used in rare vulnerable moments.

“Exactly.” He could hear Jaskier’s answering grin, the soft but still wide one.

“I think I’ve felt the same, leaving court. Trying to be me, not what people expect of me. Whatever that is.” He could imagine how she’d be looking away, lost in thought.

“What it is is amazing.” The quiet sound of a kiss pressed to soft flesh. “It’s not an easy journey, gods do I know that. But it’s a good one to do.”

“I’m enjoying it so far, rough as it may be.” A hint of a smile was back in Yennefer’s voice. “And having a guide makes it all the better.”

“I’m happy to help, even if it feels like you guide me as much as I do for you.” Another sound of them shifting closer together.

“Then perhaps we’ll have to stick together.” Her voice was soft, and held a warmth that Geralt wondered if he’d ever truly heard.

“As long as you’ll have me.” The words were a promise, and perhaps the last thing Jaskier said as he started to drift to sleep.

There was another sound of a soft kiss, and then Geralt heard Yennefer’s breathing and heartrate slow as she began to drift to sleep as well.

Perhaps she had found someone else who understood her after all. Someone else, and it was Jaskier. Maybe they understood each other better than he’d ever understood either of them.

The ache in his chest was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look. I know you know that Jaskier and Yennefer were absolutely putting on a show for Geralt, but he doesn't know that and he's kinda bad at accepting affection and tends to just assume the worst instead. So that's why he thinks he's being a creep here when it's actually more complicated than that. (Jaskier and Yennefer had other things in mind and forgot to factor in Geralt's self-loathing when making their plan) 
> 
> Anyways, one of these days I might actually end up writing that essay on why Geralt's so bad with emotions (cuz he definitely has his reasons)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote the next few chapters all in one go, and only ended up splitting them after the fact. So instead of getting one big update, you get cliffhangers and I get to enjoy the tension coming off of all of you. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: so I thought this posted but apparently it saved as a draft instead; sorry for the late posting everyone!

Geralt’s reaction the next morning wasn’t quite what Jaskier was expecting. There wasn’t annoyance, or any snide comments. He just didn’t seem to be making eye contact with Jaskier or Yennefer. It was less fun than Jaskier was expecting.

The morning passed fairly quietly; Geralt didn’t say a word, and while Yennefer chatted with Ciri on and off, and Jaskier joined them or played the lute while working out a new song, there was something off.

Jaskier didn’t like it.

He almost wanted to talk to Geralt about it, but Geralt still hadn’t said anything yet about everything Jaskier had spilled to him when they joined up with him and Ciri. Not to the anger, not to the love. It’s not like Jaskier was expecting a heartfelt apology right away, but didn’t he deserve something? Not just silence and uncertainty?

It was something he appreciated about Yennefer; while she did often bottle her emotions to some extent, she was bold, and she would express how she felt in clear, sometimes cutting language.

Geralt wasn’t like that. He could be at times, but otherwise it could be work to decode what he said, and his actions and words may contradict each other.

So different, and yet Jaskier loved them both. If only he could find out where he truly stood with Geralt, if the witcher actually wanted him around, or if he’d meant what he said on that mountain.

But Geralt said nothing, letting the others talk while he stuck with Roach. 

They continued through the woods when suddenly Geralt held up a hand. “There’s something nearby.”

Everyone else froze, even Jaskier going quiet. Ciri looked at Geralt, eyes wide. “What is it?”

He paused for a moment, listening. “Sounds like people in armor.”

“Nilfgaard?” Yennefer asked, and without saying anything they all seemed to unconsciously shift closer to Ciri, as if they could block her from sight already.

“Hard to tell.” Geralt was looking around, but the density of the forest meant that even he probably wouldn’t see anything until it was close.

“Do they sound like we could avoid them, or are they too close?” Jaskier’s hands shifted to his back, reaching under his doublet to his daggers. “You two could stay with Roach while Yennefer and I get closer.”

Geralt shook his head. “We should stay together.”

“And risk them seeing Fiona and reporting back?” Jaskier shook his head.

“If they get that close, they won’t be reporting back.” Yennefer shifted, and Jaskier swore he could feel a shifting in the air that sent a shiver down his spine.

Sheltered between them and Roach, Ciri rolled her eyes. “I’ve gotten away from Nilfgaard before, you know. All on my own.”

Jaskier smiled at her, but he was sure there was still a trace of nerves in his expression. “Yes, and that’s admirable and worth respecting, but you aren’t alone anymore. We’ll protect you. The good thing about traveling together with people you care about is protecting each other.”

“They’re getting closer.” Geralt scanned the forest around them.

“Which way?” Yennefer looked around as well, lowering her pack.

Closing his eyes a moment, Geralt listened to the noise none of them could hear yet. Finally, he opened his eyes and nodded. “That way.”

“Jaskier, follow me.” Yennefer reached back as he set down his pack and lute.

“This is a bad idea.” Geralt crossed his arms. “We should stay together.”

Jaskier looked at Yennefer, who was already moving forward, then back to Geralt. “If it’s Nilfgaard, we’ll either take care of it or you and Fiona will have more time to get safe. If it’s not, we’ll be back to let you know.” With that, he turned back to follow Yennefer.

She was some ways ahead of him, stopped half behind a tree to watch the movement up ahead. Movement that looked like black armor.

“Shit.” Jaskier stopped beside her. “It’s really them again?”

“Looks like it.” Yennefer shifted, and he could feel the change in the air as she readied her chaos.

“I’ll go first, see what information I can get.” His hands drifted to his daggers, but he didn’t grab them yet.

Yennefer’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Is that safe?”

“Of course, darling.” He leaned in for a quick peck. “I’ve got you watching my back, don’t I?”

“Doesn’t mean you should be stupid about it.” Yennefer’s mumble was just loud enough to hear as he walked away, toward the soldiers.

“Gentlemen!” Jaskier opened his arms, acting causal. “It seems we’re all quite lost. I thought this was Sodden; what are men from Nilfgaard doing here?”

Their eyes narrowed on him, and their weapons quickly came out. One spoke. “None of your business. Keep walking.”

“Wait.” The other one grabbed the first one’s arm. “We may be just where we need to be.” He stepped closer to Jaskier. “Remember that last report we got?” Before Jaskier could respond, a rough gloved hand was on his face. “There were rumors of the witcher’s bard traveling around here. That he’d be pretty, blue-eyed, and brightly dressed.”

“Well I’m quite flattered, but I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Jaskier mentally cursed as he pulled one hand up over the soldier’s wrist as if to pull his hand off his face, the other nearing the daggers on his back while mindful of the first soldier, who still had his sword drawn. “I’ll always accept a compliment on my looks, but I have no instrument and I’m traveling alone. I can’t be the bard you speak of.”

They shared a look, and it was enough of a pause for Jaskier to get a good grip on his steel dagger. The soldier holding his face turned back to him and tightened his grip. “Best to take you in anyways. Besides—”

Jaskier cut off what was sure to be a lewd comment (based on the way the man was looking at him) with a quick thrust of his dagger into the underside of the man’s jaw. He backed away as the man dropped, looking at the other soldier. “Why are you looking for the bard?”

“We need the witcher; he has the girl.” They circled each other, a new glint in the soldier’s eyes. “So why don’t you show us your witcher, bard?”

Jaskier shifted his grip on the dagger. “Not much of an us, or did you miss your companion’s bloody throat?” He gestured to the soldier on the ground, who was only making faint gurgling sounds now.

It seemed to be enough to taunt the remaining soldier, because he charged, sword raised.

Jaskier raised his dagger, supporting it with both hands in hopes of blocking the hit toward his face. His hands shook with the impact and the blades slid together; he was distracted as he felt steel meet his cheek, then—

“Don’t touch what’s mine.” Yennefer’s voice rang out coolly before the soldier crumbled where he stood, dropping like a puppet with cut strings. He fell limply onto his compatriot. Yennefer glared at him, kicking the sprawled form slightly before stepping over to Jaskier, her expression softening. “Are you alright?”

“Thanks to you.” He grinned, ignoring how it pulled at his cheek as he carefully placed his hands on her hips. He leaned in for a kiss, but stopped with her hands cupping his jaw.

“I didn’t quite get him in time.” There was frustration in Yennefer’s voice.

“You can fix it.” He turned his cheek to her. “And besides, I’m fine. Barely nicked me.”

“What was that?” They both turned as Geralt stepped into the clearing, Ciri just behind him.

Jaskier smiled tightly. “Threat’s taken care of.”

Geralt pushed between him and Yennefer, squatting to look at the soldiers closely. “I came because I smelled blood.”

“No need to worry; it mostly isn’t mine.” Jaskier looked over to where Ciri was taking in everything with wide eyes. “And what is mine can be gone soon, right Yennefer?” He looked at her, hoping his gaze wasn’t quite so pleading as it felt.

“Right.” Yennefer stepped closer again, laying her hand on his cheek. He felt an odd tingling sensation for a moment, then the pain was gone.

He caught her hand in his as she pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to her palm. “Thank you.”

They turned at the sound of Geralt drawing his silver sword and decapitating both corpses.

Yennefer squinted at him. “They were both dead already. Jaskier and I made sure of that.”

“Nilfgaard made the dead rise before.” Geralt stood up fully, one hand briefly brushing where Jaskier knew his injury was. “Can’t risk it happening again.”

“Well, we should be safe for now.” Jaskier looked around for something to wipe his dagger on. “Onto the next town?”

“No.” Geralt’s tone was firm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I do enjoy tension, at least you know Jaskier's alive and not facing off a solider, right? Now there's just emotional (and sexual, don't forget that sweet sweet UST) tension to be the cliffhanger. Is that better or worse? It's fun for me either way.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I forget if I said this in an author's note or just in response to a comment, but sometimes things get worse before they get better. That being said, your ready for this?

“Shouldn’t we decide together?” Yennefer crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t in charge here, Geralt. You don’t control us.”

He glared, looking between her and Jaskier. “I heard everything. They know us, it’s too risky.”

“It’s just scouts.” Careful with the hand still holding the dagger, Jaskier crossed his own arms. “We can take them.”

“Yennefer isn’t back at full power yet and I’m injured.” Geralt shook his head and started walking back towards Roach. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re not the only ones who can fight.” Jaskier scoffed, holding up his bloody dagger. “Or did your witcher senses miss when I took out a soldier all on my own?”

“Didn’t get the second one on your own.” Geralt didn’t even turn back.

“Well isn’t that why Jaskier said we work together?” Fiona trailed after Geralt. “And besides, I can fight too.”

“No.” Geralt continued to Roach, starting to gather the packs they’d dropped. “We’re avoiding towns now. We can hunt for food, find things in the forest.”

“And cut ourselves off from information as well?” Yennefer’s hands dropped by her sides as she followed them. “Jaskier’s right, Geralt. We aren’t the only ones who can fight.”

Geralt turned around, looking at Jaskier. “How long have you been training? Because this is the first I’ve heard of it, and a year’s worth of training is nothing against soldiers.”

Jaskier scoffed. “There’s plenty of things you don’t know about me, Geralt. It’s been a while now, and as that isn’t the first soldier I’ve taken down. I think I’ve proven my worth.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looked away. “You can’t have been training very long.”

“Oh, because I never practiced in front of you?” Jaskier’s voice grew harsher. “Well maybe there was a time where I liked you protecting me, before I decided that I hated feeling like a burden more than I liked feeling protected.”

Yennefer winced, stepping over to Fiona as they both watched the mounting tension between Geralt and Jaskier. It seemed to be rattling the girl some, so Yennefer put an arm around her in a gesture she hoped was comforting. “What would you have us do, Geralt?” Despite trying to comfort Fiona, Yennefer let her frustration slip into her voice.

“We know they know Fiona and I, and now Jaskier too.” Geralt continued as if it had been a genuine question. “So we need to keep a low profile. No more towns, and definitely no more performing.”

Jaskier leaned back. “Excuse me?” 

“No more performing.” Geralt’s voice was hard, like he was trying to cut off any arguments.

He really should have known better. After all, how long had he known Jaskier?

“It could have been anyone that they spotted that gave it away; me performing is still our best way of getting coin and information.” Jaskier crossed his arms.

Yennefer held Fiona against her side. She understood Jaskier’s point, but they couldn’t risk the girl. So… “They did mention you specifically, Jaskier.”

He shot her a momentary glare, then got a calculating look in his eyes. “Actually, we could work with this.” He looked at her. “Once Yennefer has enough strength, she could portal me to random locations across the Continent. I play, gather some information, step back through at the end of the night. It’ll throw them off enough for you all to get clear.”

It could work, actually. For all his dramatics Jaskier was surprisingly good at subtlety when he wanted to be. There was certainly risk involved, but Jaskier could defend himself, and they could come up with plans to make it more secure. Yennefer was about to say as much when Geralt spoke up.

“No. It’s not happening.” His arms were crossed, and he seemed to be doing his best at intimidation, not like it would work with anyone here. “It’s a bad idea, just like you playing in the first place was.”

“As I recall, we all agreed to that.” Jaskier’s voice was sharp; Yennefer almost wanted to intervene, but part of her felt that they needed to do this, to get this out of their systems.

“I didn’t. You just talked us into it, but I thought it was a bad idea.” Geralt was glaring full force this time. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jaskier. It led them right to us!”

Jaskier’s blue eyes blazed. “Oh, so we’re really back to blaming me for everything that has gone wrong, are we? We’re doing this again?”

That seemed to rattle something loose in Geralt; had the two of them still not talked about this? There was a trace of hesitation in Geralt’s eyes, but the anger overrode it. “This time, it is all on you.”

“Oh, gods. So we really are doing this again. You shoving me aside like it’ll solve all of your problems if I’m off your hands?” Jaskier’s own hands balled into fists at his sides. “Do you really want me gone so badly?”

Geralt growled; Yennefer could tell he was struggling with his words and wondered if it was too late for her to intervene. “Do you even want to be here? Because you haven’t been acting like it. You’ve been completely unlike yourself.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s voice was tense in a way it rarely got. “Excuse me if I can’t quite sort out the emotional mess of getting harshly tossed aside by the person I was solidly in love with, who was my best friend for my entire adult life, and then somehow still have feelings for him despite him giving me nothing but anger, inconsistent treatment, or a cold shoulder? For those of us who deal with emotions instead of just ignoring them, it can take more than a few days to sort that out!” His voice rose throughout until he was yelling, his chest heaving. He took a deep breath, then rubbed a hand over his face. “Alright. Maybe I do need to leave. Maybe I can’t do this here.” He looked at Yennefer, his blue eyes overflowing with emotion. “I’m sorry; I know we said we wouldn’t try to force each other to make this decision either way, but I can’t stay. I can’t.”

Yennefer let go of Fiona, stepping towards him. “Jaskier…”

Before anyone else could respond, a new shout shook the clearing they were in. 

**“NO!”** Fiona’s voice had an otherworldly echo to it, and the force of it was enough to knock Jaskier and Yennefer off of their feet and send Geralt stumbling and clutching at his injured leg as he remained upright. The teenager looked between them, fury in her eyes. “I _refuse_ to lose anyone else. I have lost my grandparents who raised me, my parents before I could ever truly know them, Mousesack, who was replaced by an imposter who tried to take me, everyone who was part of my childhood in the castle, the people who I thought were my friends in the town who may have been lying to me, Cintra itself, Dara...” Her voice got softer and more sorrowful as she trailed off, but when she looked up again her green eyes were steely. “None of you are leaving. You **will** work this out.”

“Okay.” Jaskier held up his hands from where he was sprawled on the ground. He looked between Geralt and Yennefer. “The three of us need to talk. It’s probably long overdue.”

“Agreed.” Yennefer, who had fallen against a tree, moved forward to offer a hand to Jaskier, which he accepted. She pulled him upright, then looked to Geralt. “And it does need to be the three of us.”

Geralt looked between them before nodding. “Fiona, go stay with Roach.”

“No.” Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want anyone leaving.”

“This will be a long, long conversation.” Jaskier offered her a small smile. “But I understand if you can’t trust people not to leave right now.” He stepped away from Yennefer to where their packs were back with Roach still, carefully picking something up before returning to Fiona with his lute in his hands. “I have had this for longer than you have been alive; since my first adventure with Geralt.” At the memory, he directed a soft smile towards Geralt before looking back to Fiona seriously. “It is something I would never, ever leave behind.” He carefully held it out toward her. “The others may be tied to you by destiny, but take this as my promise that I will not leave you without at least stopping to say goodbye, and why. Can you accept?”

Fiona looked at him warily, but her hands closed over the lute and she pulled it to her chest. “It’s an acceptable compromise for now.”

“Excellent.” Jaskier smiled, sure and genuine, before looking at Geralt and Yennefer more seriously. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciri really just had like, the worst week throughout the show. All the other plotlines stretched over decades but for her it was like 2 weeks tops. They've all been through such tough times and serious trauma.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for heavy emotional stuff? Sometimes it can be tricky to keep people in character and make them talk about feelings when in canon they have the emotional intelligence of a grape (understandable or not). Still, while I have done a lot of tweaking here I think I'm happy with how it came out, and that everyone feels like themselves (or my versions of them at least). So enjoy!

They walked far enough that Fiona would be unlikely to overhear, but that Geralt would still be able to hear her if there was danger, and that she may still be able to see them through the trees. They spread out, uncertain, once they settled on the location.

It was quiet for a tense moment before Jaskier looked to Geralt. “Alright, skipping over the mountain of past issues behind us,” he winced a bit at his own word choice before continuing, his soft tone practically a whisper compared to the screaming before, “what’s got you so riled up about Nilfgaard recognizing me, Geralt? Even if they did manage to capture me—which, let them try honestly, between all of us it’d be pretty difficult—even if that did happen, don’t you know that I’d rather die than give up **any** of you?”

There was still tension in Geralt’s shoulders as he hunched over on himself where he sat, but he looked at Jaskier. “I do.” He sat up a little more. “Don’t you realize that that’s exactly why I don’t want you getting captured?”

Something in Jaskier seemed to shift at that; he stared at Geralt, who stared back at him, unwavering.

“While I do think your plan to gather information and throw them off was clever, I agree that it’s not worth risking your life, Jaskier.” They both turned to Yennefer as if startled and then looked away, almost in unison. Just as she expected. “How did you two survive for twenty-two years like this?”

Geralt, predictably, glared at her, and Jaskier, equally predictably, was the one to answer. “It wasn’t like this most of that time.” He turned from her to Geralt, then looked away again. “I certainly knew I annoyed Geralt at times, I mean Melitele’s tits he punched me in the stomach the day we first met because I mentioned a certain title that he didn’t really deserve.” He looked at Geralt. “And while that wasn’t pleasant, I’m pretty sure that you were holding back.”

Geralt glanced up from where he’d been studying his gloved hands. “I was. I didn’t want to actually hurt you. Not for something you didn’t know any better about.”

Jaskier smiled slightly at that before turning to Yennefer. “I know we’ve talked about this, but it’s probably best to talk about it with all of us.” He looked back between her and Geralt. “It was the little things like that, all the little hints at your kindness and sense of justice and all of those many admirable traits about you, Geralt, that had me falling for you beyond the physical attraction I first felt when I first saw you at that tavern in Posada. How your sharp sense of humor peeked through the seemingly insulting comments and everything else. So I stuck around, and wrote my songs hoping maybe the world would start to see you a little more how I did. How I do. But then…” He looked away, calloused fingers rubbing against each other on his lap. “I offered you everything on that mountaintop, and you walked away without a word. And the next morning… I know you were worked up, and maybe regretted it as soon as you said it, but…” He looked up at Geralt. “Things we say when we’re angry don’t just come from nowhere. Some part of you tends to mean some part of it. So how much of you meant how much of what you’d said?”

Yennefer shifted over to Jaskier, offering a hand in support. He took it, interlacing their fingers as they watched Geralt. Yennefer wanted to say something, maybe comfort Jaskier, but she knew getting Geralt to talk about emotions could be like approaching an injured animal: one wrong move and he’d lash out or flee, and it would fester or scar up without ever getting properly addressed. So she waited. And decided that she and Jaskier might have to see if they could undo near a century of internalizing that “witchers don’t have emotions” nonsense. If this went well, hopefully they’d have time.

Finally, after what was probably less time than it felt like, Geralt looked up. “I was angry. And you were…involved in the things I accused you of. But not the cause. I wanted my space in the moment, but I didn’t want you gone. Not long term, and certainly not forever.” His voice was soft, and he didn’t look at Jaskier.

“It’s easier to push people away than watch them leave. It feels like control over it.” Yennefer scoffed, but hoped they heard the self-deprecating note to it. “I’ve certainly been there before.”

“Or leaving rather than being left behind as control?” Geralt had changed to watching her, gold eyes steady.

“Maybe so.” She met his gaze, not backing down even as she felt Jaskier squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Not like I would stay gone for long, thanks to you.”

Geralt looked away, but it was less satisfying than Yennefer expected. “Another thing I shouldn’t have done.”

“Stop.” They both turned to Jaskier, who looked uncharacteristically stern. “Don’t go down that ‘I’m a monster’ mental path. Making stupid decisions because of emotions running high is probably the most human thing someone can do.” His expression softened when Geralt looked up with a slight upturn on the corner of his mouth. “Still, that was unlike you. I mean, I certainly get Yennefer’s appeal, now at least,” he turned to her with a smirk that was only somewhat at odds with the softness in his eyes before looking back to Geralt, “but falling stupidly in love after one day is much more my speed than yours. Your speed is several decades before the word friend is even considered.” He said it in a joking tone, but Yennefer could hear the bitterness underneath.

Geralt didn’t meet either of their eyes. “It’s hard to find someone with similar life experience. Someone who…understands.” He looked up at Yennefer. “I didn’t want you to destroy yourself. The djinn…changed it. In the moment I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Ah.” Something in Yennefer softened at that; it wasn’t like he’d actually forced her to fall in love with him, was it? They just would keep seeing each other, which meant that anything that came out of that might have been genuine. Everything that she’d shoved into another bottle after the mountain, all the vulnerability and softness, the warmth… it might have truly been her own, not something manufactured. Something she was capable of creating. Her choice, as much as love was anyone’s choice. She was still annoyed that he’d manipulated their circumstances, but… “So not as bad as it seems, even if you still shouldn’t have done it.”

The revelation had hit her so strongly and brought up so much that she almost didn’t notice Jaskier going stiff besides her at Geralt’s words. At least, not until he stood with a start, pulling his hand from hers and beginning to pace. “Of course. You two have your grand magic destinies and long, tragic backstories, of course you’d understand each other so well, and with so little effort. You just connect on a level that a simple mortal bard could never even begin to comprehend. What use is the candle of my experience compared to the bonfire of each of yours? What need for its weak glow?”

“Jaskier.” Yennefer watched him pace, trying to catch his attention but he wasn’t looking at either of them. “Do you actually believe that?”

“Why not?” He threw his arms out wide, his voice loud with a frantic edge. “Plenty of people have found that their enjoyment of me has an expiration date, or that they’d only really like me if I just changed near everything I was or am, or that my only value comes from how long I can entertain them with my music or in bed, or that perhaps I just foolishly fell too deep for someone who never truly cared. It could be anything.” His smile twisted his face but didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe a longer lifespan just means more patience, and more reaction when it runs out.”

“That’s not what this is.” Yennefer crossed her arms, resisting the urge to grab him to stop his pacing. “You’re not just some…temporary dalliance like people have at court one week then drop the next.”

When blue eyes met hers, they were pained. “It’s barely been a few weeks, Yennefer. What’ll happen when you tire of me?”

She bristled at that. “Have you learned nothing about what happens when people try to make my decisions about relationships for me? I don’t want this to end, so unless you want it to, it isn’t.” Taking a deep breath, she softened, reminding herself that it was his own insecurities coming out, not him rejecting her for any perceived shortcomings of her own. “Didn’t you promise me you’d stay?”

He relaxed a bit as well. “As long as you’ll have me.” For a moment, the storm in those blue eyes seemed to settle, but then— “But _everyone_ tires of me eventually. One day I just push too far,” he was pacing again, “annoy them just a bit too much, say the wrong thing at the wrong time, something. I’m just never quite right, for anyone.”

“Stop.” Geralt’s voice seemed to snap Jaskier out of his new reverie. “I know this goes deeper than what I’ve said, but that my words and actions over the years probably contributed to it. But that wasn’t really about you, Jaskier.” He looked away, not meeting the gaze of either of them as they looked at him. “Before you, the last time anyone had approached me without fear, had seemed genuinely interested in me, was Blaviken.” Even Jaskier went completely still at that as Geralt finally looked up. “It was used against me. So I was…guarded. Perhaps afraid.” He looked at Jaskier directly. “But you shouldn’t have borne the brunt of it. You’re caring, and almost concerningly fearless, and clever, and creative…” Geralt looked away. “Even with your faults, better than I deserve.” He looked at Yennefer. “Both of you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had this whole conversation as one chapter, but it was long so I decided to split it. So you'll have to wait til Monday to see how this turns out; enjoy your weekend! (screaming at me in the comments is allowed and will be enjoyed; I'll read it and practice my evil laugh)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope that that wait over the weekend wasn't too bad. Ready to see if they can actually manage to talk this out?

“No.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “True, Yennefer is incredibly powerful, intelligent, quick-witted, beautiful, and a bit ruthless in a way that I probably should not find attractive as I do, and thus could do better, it’s her choice to make. And it’s mine too.” Jaskier strode over to Geralt, kneeling before him and cupping a hand on his face. “I have had plenty of fleeting romances in my life. But this is deeper, different.” He looked over his shoulder at Yennefer, something earnest in his eyes. “With both of you.” He turned back to Geralt. “So if you genuinely don’t want me, tell me now. Because otherwise, it’s my candle of a life to do as I please with, and if I have the chance to have both of you I’m not passing that up.”

Geralt looked between him and Yennefer, the question clear in his face. But he didn’t voice it, so Yennefer decided to. “How would that work?”

“However we want.” Jaskier sat back and turned to better face Yennefer, his hand leaving Geralt’s face. He looked between the two of them curiously. “What, over 200 years of life between the three of us and I’m the only one who knows such arrangements?”

“It’s not exactly common.” Most long term instances Yennefer could think of at court where someone had two lovers usually involved someone not knowing, but perhaps there were some exceptions if she really thought of it, although after Aedirn she’d never really stayed anywhere else long enough to truly know much about it…

Jaskier laughed. “We’re a witcher, a rogue mage, and a runaway nobleman turned greatest bard the Continent has ever seen.” He sat back, resting on his hands with a shrug. “We hardly need to follow common conventions.”

“What did you call yourself?” Geralt’s brows had pulled together in confusion.

“Greatest bard the Continent had ever seen?” Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve given you and Yennefer enough epithets, may as well give myself some as well. I’ve earned it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Before that, Jaskier.”

“Ah.” Jaskier looked thoughtful for a moment, then got a mischievous look in his eyes and winked at Yennefer. “What’s my name, Geralt? My full name.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, clearly able to tell something was off. “Your name is Jaskier.”

He grinned, looking at Yennefer. “Darling, what’s my full name?”

She smirked, enjoying knowing something about Jaskier that Geralt didn’t. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove.”

“What?” Geralt turned to Jaskier. “You’re a what?”

Jaskier smirked. “Told you I could keep secrets from you.” He rolled his shoulders. “And technically, I am a minor noble from a place not even important enough to make it onto most maps.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “But don’t worry about me missing it or them missing me; I’d rather be here, and they’ve made their opinions on me quite clear. There’s plenty enough self-important people in the family to fight over controlling that little backwater nothing.”

Geralt’s voice was soft. “How did I never know?”

“It’s amazing what people will overlook if you talk a lot; let it all become background chatter and they won’t even notice what you leave out.” His expression soured a little. “Like I said, none of us had truly happy childhoods.”

Yennefer could feel a familiar crackling in her fingertips at the thought of anyone causing that kind of hurt to show through Jaskier’s usually sunny expression. She let every ounce of intent drip into her voice. “We could always pay them a visit. Would it be terribly out of the way between here and Kaer Morhen?”

“It’s not worth it.” Jaskier shook his head. “It’s not like they carelessly handed me off to undergo traumatic training, a horrifically painful transformation, and other marvelous magical mishaps.” He smirked humorlessly for a moment before it dropped. “They made sure I never wanted for a thing, except perhaps understanding or kindness. Made sure I got a good education, but when I came back from Oxenfurt with a newfound taste for performing for crowds, even the most everyday tavern, they declared it shameful, below me. Always thought me too loud and reckless anyways and always made sure I knew I was a disappointment.” He looked up, something like the usual spark back in his eyes. “So I decided that if I was to disappoint them, may as well do it spectacularly. Become the best damn traveling bard the world has ever seen, and reinvent myself so everyone would know my name but never theirs. Choose who I would be and the company I would keep, rather than having it arranged for me.”

There was quiet in the clearing, then Geralt shrugged. “We could still do it.” Yennefer imagined that as many pieces were falling into place for him as for her. So many of Jaskier’s recent and older reactions made much more sense now.

Still, he waved them off. “I’ve been back since then, and I think they realize they have no real power over me now.” He smiled, more genuine this time. “So as fun as it would be, I’d rather focus on the present than the past. Or the future, with whatever the three of us will do. I’ve already said you can both have me til the end of my mortal life if you so wish, whenever that may be.”

“Not anytime soon; Geralt and I already decided that.” Yennefer crossed her arms, satisfied when Geralt grunted in agreement.

“Thank you.” Jaskier’s confusion was clear in his voice. “I’m flattered, really. I don’t think that’s how it works, but thank you.”

“We’ll make it work.” Yennefer leaned in, letting Jaskier see she was serious.

“Why are you thinking of death so much anyways?” Geralt watched Jaskier closely.

Jaskier hunched inwards slightly. “Well when your life gets shaken up in a major way like a long-term relationship of any kind drastically ending, it kindof makes you reconsider everything. This kind of crisis is perfectly normal for someone in my position.”

“Well then we’ll find plenty of more pleasant positions for you to be in so you stop thinking about it.” Yennefer sat up. “I don’t let go of what I want easily, and right now I think that means you.” She looked at Geralt. “Both of you.” Life had taken enough from her; the others may fret about what was deserved or not, but Yennefer had burned away her insecurities with the Nilfgaardian army at Sodden Hill, and now she felt she truly knew what she wanted. It was her turn to take from life. 

“Excellent.” Jaskier clapped his hands, looking at the witcher beside him expectantly. “Geralt? Finally decide if you might want something after learning there are in fact people who want you?”

“I…” Geralt looked between them, then back at his hands.

Yennefer didn’t even need to read his mind to know where it was going. “We aren’t asking what you think you deserve, or what you imagine would be best or safest for either of us. If this afternoon has proved anything, it’s that we’re safest together.” Yennefer held up a hand to stop the complaint she knew would come from Jaskier; she knew that he could defend himself, and if this went well they’d have time to convince Geralt later. “Just be honest, Geralt, because we can probably tell if you aren’t. What do you actually want?”

“I want…” Geralt took a deep breath, then looked over their heads to the trees above them. “I want it to not be quiet and lonely when I travel anymore. I want to have you both close so I know you’re safe, the same way I felt relief when you both showed up with Fiona and I. I want to have people who understand me, or just listen with care, and speak to me like a person, not like something to be feared. I don’t want to only be on the other side of a wall listening in when you two are together wondering if I’d ever be allowed to have that kind of connection. I want…” Geralt trailed off, pausing and taking a deep breath before looking at them finally, “I want you both.”

“Then it’s settled.” Jaskier grinned, then shrugged. “Well, this is probably just the first of many, many conversations, and of course we can’t settle a different kind of wanting until we reach Kaer Morhen—”

“Jaskier, there are other witchers there, with senses near as good as mine.” Geralt almost looked amused. “We won’t be able to openly do that; they’d all hear.”

“So we keep the bard’s mouth busy.” Yennefer shrugged, smirking. “I know he’s loud, but there are better uses for his mouth.”

“Yennefer!” Jaskier covered his mouth in mock offense, then laughed too hard to keep it up. “I suppose I can’t really be insulted when between the three of us I’m sure we can find plenty of good uses for my mouth.”

Geralt groaned, but Yennefer just looked at him and smiled. “All else fails, I’ll just soundproof the room, but I like the first plan. It may be good to wear Jaskier out anyways; he can sleep while we train Fiona.”

“As if I won’t be busy meeting these other witchers Geralt never mentioned before and getting all sorts of stories for new songs.” Jaskier got a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ll come out of this winter with more songs than I’ll know what to do with. Maybe even a new version of Toss a Coin with a verse for each witcher at Kaer Morhen.” Geralt groaned again, and it seemed to snap Jaskier out of his reverie. “Don’t worry, dearheart, you’re still my favorite.” He leaned in and kissed Geralt’s cheek, then bounced back, probably almost missing the soft surprised look on Geralt’s face. “Gods, I have wanted to do that for so long.”

Yennefer smirked. “I look forward to watching you try all the other fun things you’ve been waiting to do. I could tell you a few highlights, if you’d like.”

Geralt stood abruptly. “Let’s get back to Fiona.”

Yennefer leaned back as he walked past her. “Trust me Geralt, once he gets his mouth on you…” She trailed off as Geralt walked past her without acknowledging her words, then looked at Jaskier.

They both started laughing, ending up leaning against each other in the middle of the clearing. Jaskier let out a last few giggles, lacing his hands with Yennefer’s. “Oh darling, that went much smoother than I would have expected.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, but she smiled back. “He’s gonna regret that we’ve started getting along, I can tell.”

“We’ll make it up to him.” Jaskier grinned and leaned in for a quick kiss, then stood and offered her a hand. “Now, shall we get back to our princess?”

“And Roach.” Yennefer accepted his and placed her free hand over his when he linked their arms together. “Can’t forget her.”

“Of course, she’s who we’re truly competing with for the top spot in Geralt’s heart.” Jaskier laughed again, and it was good to see him letting go of the tension of the afternoon. Yennefer let her free hand fall to hold her skirts as they walked back through the forest to where Fiona, Roach, and Geralt were, keeping her arm linked with Jaskier’s and smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goofy comment on a more serious chapter, but where is Lettenhove supposed to be? I've seen conflicting things and it never shows up on the Continent maps I've found. Anyone actually know?
> 
> Also, if Ciri's plot is a coming-of-age story then Jaskier's is a romcom where someone gets dumped, has a midlife crisis, starts dating someone who they'd overlooked before, and then has their ex come back into their life and has a whole crisis over it. Except it ends in polyamory because love triangles are overrated.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not confident enough to put an official chapter count, I'm writing chapter 26 now and it feels like things are wrapping up; it might be less than 30 chapters, but I'll know soon. But we've got some excitement between now and then...

“Is this really necessary?” Jaskier stretched idly, seemingly just copying Geralt.

“Yes.” Geralt threw him a sword in a sheath, and Jaskier managed to catch it. “If you insist on fighting, I want to make sure you’re trained.”

“It’s not like I’m planning on charging into battle.” Jaskier unsheathed the sword and looked at it. “Where did you get this anyways? It doesn’t look like either of yours.”

“It’s not.” Geralt unsheathed his own sword from his back. “I took it from one of the Nilfgaardian soldiers from yesterday.”

“What?” Jaskier nearly dropped the sword in surprise. “The one I killed?”

Geralt shrugged. “Might have been the one Yennefer killed.”

“That’s not what’s important here.” Jaskier let the hand holding the sword drop, resting the end on the ground so he could pinch the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “What matters is that you stole a dead man’s sword when you already have two; we could have just practiced with those.”

“It’s not good to practice with silver against steel.” Geralt held his sword at the ready, waiting for Jaskier to do the same. “Besides, that’s your sword now.”

“What?” Jaskier looked at Geralt incredulously. “I don’t need a sword, I have daggers. Like I said, I’m not planning on fighting much.”

“Daggers are only good if you have an element of surprise. If you don’t, then by the time you get close enough to use it, you’d already be stabbed.” Geralt looked at Jaskier seriously. “Just because Yennefer and I are looking out for you doesn’t mean you can be reckless.”

“Fine.” Jaskier adjusted his grip on the sword, raising it. “Let’s go, old man.”

Geralt glared slightly at that, but didn’t say anything. He stepped forward, raising his sword and preparing his opening strike.

Keeping his sword at the ready, Jaskier dodged, the sword missing him easily. “Am I too used to your fighting style or are you just being obvious?”

Geralt didn’t respond, shifting his stance and readying another swing.

Jaskier shifted backwards, catching Geralt’s sword with his own. “Seriously, if even someone as inexperienced as I could see that coming, what are you doing?” He pressed forward, their swords still together.

“There’s not usually this much talking.” Geralt pushed his sword against Jaskier’s, making him stumble back a bit, then pulled away.

“Then stop holding back.” Jaskier adjusted his grip, stepping forward. “See if you can render me speechless.” He paused, winking. “Yennefer’s done it before.” His smirk grew as Geralt paused at that and Jaskier lunged forward.

Geralt blocked the blow easily, catching Jaskier’s sword against his and shifting one hand from the hilt to press against the blade with his palm, forcing Jaskier back.

He managed not to stumble, despite the uneven ground. “These aren’t even your basic moves, Geralt. Where are the spins?”

Geralt glared at him for that, eyeing the space between them. “It’s best to start with the basics.”

“Will Nilfgaard be starting with the basics?” Jaskier licked his lips as he shifted his stance and adjusted his grip.

“Stop trying to distract me.” Geralt lunged forward.

“Wasn’t trying, that time at least.” Jaskier sidestepped, backing across the clearing, and then smirked. “But if it’s working…”

Geralt groaned, and Jaskier laughed. The witcher began to move.

Geralt started to twist, the swirl in his step building momentum in his swing as he moved toward Jaskier, the strike ready to land—

And hitting a tree, getting the steel sword stuck in the trunk. Geralt looked around for a moment, confused, until—

Steel against his throat, and what must have been a dagger in his lower back. His sword was still stuck in the tree, and Jaskier’s voice was in his ear. “Oh dearheart, I love your sense of justice. But some of us learned that when you can’t win in a fair fight, fight dirty.”

Geralt felt a kiss pressed to the skin below his ear, then Jaskier and the blades were gone. Geralt freed his sword from the tree with a rough tug, then turned to see Jaskier looking smug. “What was that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Jaskier smirked. “If you weren’t holding back, we both know you’d beat me handily. So if I rile you up a bit, it makes it more fun.”

Geralt looked over his sword as if inspecting it for damage. “Not the safest technique.”

“Eh, most men who wield a sword have an ego to match.” Jaskier couldn’t hold back his grin. “Besides, like we’ve both said, I won’t be doing much fighting.”

“Hmm.” Geralt finally looked up at him. “How are you so light on your feet?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Geralt, do you know how many evenings have I spent dancing around courts and taverns while singing and playing the lute? Because I don’t. It’s a lot.” He picked up the discarded sheath and returned the sword to it. “Between that and years of walking everywhere on the Continent, you should see what these legs can do.” He smirked again. “Hopefully soon you will.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but he was sure that Jaskier could see how afterwards his gaze drifted to Jaskier’s legs. Not that he could see much; for all his reputation Jaskier’s clothing was loose enough to leave much to the imagination. 

Jaskier laughed as he set the sword aside. “So are we done for the day?”

“You have the oddest relationship with violence.” Geralt narrowed his eyes at him. “You flinch away at times, like when Téa snapped a man’s neck for trying to steal my things, but you’ll happily wave around the dagger you killed a Nilfgaardian with, or laugh at me covered in monster guts.”

“Because there’s a difference.” Jaskier shrugged. “Not everyone deserves to die. With the man stealing your things, you would have showed up in a moment and a single glare would have been enough for him to run away. No death necessary. But anything you actually agree to hunt, or anyone hunting us, is an actual danger that needs to be stopped.”

“Hmm.” Geralt paused to consider that, but remembered something and looked up to Jaskier with a smirk. “Then what did Valdo Marx do to deserve it?”

Jaskier laughed, but before he could respond Yennefer and Ciri approached, the latter’s face twisting in confusion. “Who’s Valdo Marx?”

“The person Jaskier wished dead when he thought he controlled the djinn.” Geralt looked over to them, looking forward to seeing Jaskier would try to explain this to everyone.

“You wished death on someone?” Yennefer sounded almost genuinely impressed. “You just keep revealing interesting new layers, bard.”

“He knows what he did.” Jaskier smirked, then turned to Ciri. “And to answer your question, he’s another bard, who’d consider himself my rival, although he lacks the talent, accomplishments, sense of understanding of music, looks, or truly anything else that makes even a decent bard to really even be considered anywhere near my equal, let alone rival.”

Yennefer scoffed. “What, is he your ex?”

“He wishes.” Jaskier scoffed right back, then extended his arms. “But as present company demonstrates, I can do far better than he could ever imagine.”

Geralt hmm’d again, but Yennefer smirked. “I have a sudden interest in finding and seducing him.”

“Don’t you dare.” Jaskier smiled. “I’d hate for you to waste a trip to Cidaris only to be disappointed in every way imaginable, darling.”

“I’m sure I could find disappointment elsewhere, like in your swordwork.” Yennefer glanced at the sheathed sword beside him. “Stopping already?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I bested Geralt.” Jaskier turned to him. “Right?”

Everyone turned expectantly to Geralt, who sighed. “He managed to get a blade to my throat.”

“While you were holding back, no doubt.” Yennefer didn’t wait for a response before looking at Jaskier. “Then perhaps it’s time you crossed swords with me.”

“Crossing swords with you and Geralt back to back?” Jaskier grinned, a familiar mischief in his eyes. “I fear I’m not a young man anymore; you’ll need to give me a moment to get my blade at the ready.”

“Gross.” Everyone turned to Ciri, but she was smiling slightly.

“Hmm.” Geralt looked between them, ignoring the innuendo. “It could be good. Yennefer is skilled with a blade, and I could observe your technique.”

Jaskier smirked. “Geralt, if you wanted to see what I could do to Yennefer with my blade, you could have just asked.”

“I think he’s asking to see what I could do to you with a blade, bard.” Yennefer smirked, ignoring Ciri making another face. “Again, Geralt you could have just asked to watch.”

Geralt ran a hand over his eyes. “I’m not sure what I expected.”

“Don’t worry, Geralt.” He could hear the bard’s smirk, and then felt it as he leaned in to kiss Geralt’s cheek under his hand before moving to loudly whisper in his ear. “You can watch all you want once we get to Kaer Morhen.”

Yennefer leaned in to kiss the other cheek with what felt like a matching smirk. “And hopefully do more than watch.”

“How soundproof are the walls at Kaer Morhen?” Ciri’s voice carried a mix of amusement and something hard to place. “Should I just request a room far away from you?”

Geralt allowed the hand to drop from his face, ignoring the amused looks Jaskier and Yennefer were giving him and each other. “It’s not that formal, and there’s not much space. And it’s not soundproof.” He didn’t like the idea of her being away from him after traveling with her by his side since they’d met, but the other witchers would keep her safe, and Jaskier and Yennefer wouldn’t let anything happen to her either. He trusted them. “We’ll see what we can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier just seems like he'd be the type to push any sword fight to be a bit more homoerotic. Poor Geralt didn't know what he was getting into, although honestly he really probably should have.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone remembers when I mentioned writing a chapter from Ciri's POV, but guess who's POV we're getting this chapter? It doesn't come to me as naturally as some of the others but it was still fun trying to figure out her views on all of this. I hope you all enjoy!

Ciri shifted as she watched how Geralt moved, this time sparring against Yennefer. He’d been insistent that everyone practice more, even as they were trying to move faster to escape any Nilfgaardian scouts that were still past the battle sites. It was a difficult balance, especially with days getting slowly shorter. They’d not yet crossed into Temeria, but apparently they were close. If circumstances were different, Ciri might have almost enjoyed getting to see somewhere that wasn’t Cintra or Skellige. But she was on the run, not traveling, and Cintra…

She focused on Geralt and Yennefer’s slightly different fighting styles. It was clear they’d fought together before, trained together. Beside her, Jaskier was also watching them, although from his expression Ciri didn’t think his focus was on their swordwork…

She wasn’t entirely sure what happened that day they all talked after Jaskier nearly left, but she was glad they were all still here. Whatever dynamic they’d settled into seemed to be working for them. It wasn’t something that had been included in the talk her grandmother had given her as she’d neared coming of age, or even included in the slightly different, more expansive talk her grandfather had given her afterwards. But it did work for them, whatever it was. The earlier tension was gone, and the new tension she noticed between them was decidedly different.

It was good that everyone was staying together. As she’d said, Ciri had lost too much to want to lose anyone now. Geralt was, as her grandmother had said, her destiny. Finding him in the woods that day had felt right in a way that nothing had since Cintra had fallen. Like she’d been adrift at sea, thrown about by a storm but finally got an anchor. She felt safe with him, which was a welcome feeling after everything that happened. Plus, he seemed to understand her, not even questioning it on the first night that Jaskier and Yennefer joined them when she’d waited until the two of them were asleep to bring out Dara’s silver knife and carefully touch it to their skin, just to be sure. He’d seemed to trust them, but she needed to make sure herself after what happened with the doppler, and there had almost seemed to be approval in those golden eyes as he watched her do it. 

Yennefer was different than Geralt, a storm to his steadiness. Powerful and dangerous, her lightning as likely to start a fire as her rain was to put it out. Somehow the power in Ciri, uncontrolled as it was, seemed to resonate with the power in Yennefer. It had helped as Yennefer began to teach Ciri about magic, keeping her demonstrations small so they wouldn’t be spotted. She was dangerous but caring, with so many other facets Ciri felt like she would struggle to discover them all even if her life stretched as long as the sorceress’. But she was knowledgeable and fierce, and in that reminded Ciri somewhat of her grandmother in a way that brought some comfort, even if she could still see all the many differences between the two women. 

Parallels could certainly be drawn between Jaskier and her grandfather; the shared sense of humor was rather unfortunate, but reminded Ciri of home in a way that was starting to hurt less. The exterior joviality that hid some danger was a part of both too. But Ciri knew that Jaskier wasn’t really a fighter, even if he’d defend those he loved. He had a softness to him that came more naturally than it did for Geralt or Yennefer; it helped them all balance each other out. And it was Jaskier’s voice that Ciri would hear soothing her when she was half-conscious with another nightmare that happened far too often now, and the soft singing seemed to work better than Geralt’s suggestion of having a blade within reach or Yennefer’s offers of magic.

She didn’t ask what was going on between them, why they’d go to sleep with Geralt keeping watch and Yennefer and Jaskier curled together and wake with him and Geralt together and Yennefer watching, and why none of them had to speak to maintain this arrangement. Ciri was just content to have something resembling a family again.

Still, there were moments that made her question them, like that night. She’d awoken from what felt like it had been heading towards a nightmare to the sounds of them talking on the other side of the dying fire behind her.

Jaskier’s voice was quiet, probably trying not to wake her. “So Calanthe is really dead?”

Ciri bit her lips to stop herself from making a noise. She knew it, she did, but the idea of having it confirmed, of not being able to hold onto hope, or maybe denial—

“Yes.” The quiet rumble of Geralt’s voice. “I saw it—saw her. She’s dead.”

Yennefer made a quiet noise. “That’s a lot of loss for someone so young. But also…she was the crown princess, right?”

“Yes.” Jaskier made a disbelieving noise. “We’ve got the rightful queen of Cintra sleeping across from us, not that it matters much with Nilfgaard—”

“Shut up.” A sound of Yennefer smacking his arm. “We can’t go broadcasting that information.”

“There’s no Nilfgaardian soldiers, I’d hear them.” She could hear the confusion in Geralt’s voice.

“That’s not our only concern anymore.” Yennefer scoffed. “Marrying her would mean getting a claim to the kingdom once it’s restored. That means any noble or royal, including northern ones, would want to get ahold of her.”

“Surely you remember how bad it was for Pavetta?” If she was picking out where they were correctly (which was difficult; it sounded like they were close together), Jaskier had turned to Geralt. “And that was just when she was heir apparent and everyone thought Calanthe would have a long rule ahead of her. Now…now a marriage would mean getting to rule.”

“Why can’t she just choose someone herself, or say no? Calanthe and Pavetta got to.” Geralt still sounded confused, and this time Ciri had to contain a laugh, which she thought she did successfully. Being on the run made you good at being quiet.

Jaskier snorted. “Calanthe had already had her heir so her marriage was less significant, but she still made a political alliance with Skellige through Eist. It was just a bonus that they wanted to be together. As for her daughter, Pavetta was already pregnant by the time of the banquet feast, not that anyone knew until after you claimed the law of surprise in a dramatic reveal that suggested destiny had a sense of humor about you already, Geralt. And still Pavetta had to unleash powerful magic to shape her choice and prevent her mother from killing her lover. Things may not end up quite so dramatic this generation, but…” 

“Ugh, we’re going to have to educate him on court things.” Yennefer groaned. “Since she’s your child of surprise, Geralt, you may have the authority to veto potential suitors.”

“And that’s assuming no long-lost relatives come out of the woodwork to try to make the decisions for her; since Pavetta and Calanthe were only children it would be difficult to make the claim, unless Duny had some family connections we didn’t know. Maybe someone would come from Skellige, claiming a connection through Eist.” Jaskier groaned. “Ugh, I thought I was free from all of this court stuff. I’ve been deliberately avoiding it for over twenty years.”

“My last formal education on it was probably before you were born, Jaskier.” Yennefer sounded amused. “I know plenty about how it worked in Aedirn, but even that’s probably out of date now.”

“I’ve had to keep up with it some for playing at courts, although thankfully I don’t have to follow all of it.” Jaskier snorted. “You’ve been awfully quiet even by your standards, Geralt, and I know you never much liked court. Regretting your decisions?”

She could hear the joking tone to Jaskier’s voice, but something in Ciri still froze at that. She remembered Dara’s parting words, about how she brought too much trouble, and she knew how much danger and stress she’d brought to the three of them now. Was this just another set of problems they’d never have had to face without her? 

So a wave of relief came through her when Geralt finally spoke. “No. I don’t regret it.”

His voice was certain, and it gave her the strength she needed to turn around and sit up so she could face them. “It seems like I know the most about life at court then.”

In the fading firelight she could see Jaskier’s eyes go wide where he was seated between Geralt and Yennefer, their shoulders touching. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.” She looked between them. “I think survival rather than courts should be our focus now though.”

“A wise decision.” Yennefer smiled, somewhat ruefully.

Geralt was quiet another moment, and then his eyes met hers. “I should have told you. About Calanthe.”

Ciri shifted and pulled her cloak more snugly around her shoulders, running her fingers over a fraying hem. “I think I knew. I saw how they had to carry her back from the battle, and the shape she was in afterwards. And I have no doubt that she wouldn’t have let me or Cintra go if she thought she had any chance at all of fighting still. And then how everyone spoke of what happened afterwards, when I was on the run…” She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. “Having definite confirmation is…different though.” Ciri paused as something occurred to her. “So you were in Cintra when it fell.”

“Yes.” Geralt looked away. “Avoiding destiny had done me no good, and when I heard Nilfgaard was moving on Cintra…” He looked back at her. “I thought I should check in, at least. I just meant to meet with Mousesack originally, but then…”

Jaskier looked between them. “Have you two really not talked about this yet?” He snorted. “I suppose Geralt never was one for talking much.”

Yennefer slapped his arm. “They’d be talking now, if you wouldn’t interrupt.”

Ciri smiled slightly despite the painful memories that lingered. She looked back at Geralt, whose expression was unreadable in a way that she thought was somewhere between annoyed and amused. “So that day in the square, when I thought I felt like someone was watching me but didn’t see anyone when I turned around. Was that you?”

Geralt’s eyebrows rose. “You noticed that? I was out of view before you turned around.”

“There was…” Ciri thought a moment. “A feeling.”

“She’s clever, perhaps more so than you already Geralt.” Despite the teasing there was warmth in Yennefer’s voice. “Call it destiny or whatever if you wish, but I think some of it is just your own talents.” Yennefer’s smile was directed at her now, and Ciri found herself smiling back softly.

“Jaskier, you’re not making a song about this now.” Ciri looked over to see Geralt gently pulling a small book and piece of charcoal out of Jaskier’s hands that she hadn’t seen Jaskier retrieve from anywhere. Geralt closed the book and held it away despite Jaskier’s attempts to grab it. “It’s time to rest; we need to start moving faster. It won’t be long before the first snow up north.” He looked around at all of them. “I’ll take first watch.” His tone left no room for argument, and for once there was none as everyone laid down on their bedrolls, Jaskier grabbing back his notebook and tucking it somewhere as he settled down with Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've never read the books or played the games (I have seen various spoilery things though, including something about Ciri's parents that surprised me), so I don't know how much of this is explored there, but would Ciri technically be just a coronation ceremony away from officially being queen of Cintra at this point? She did seem to be the only heir. 
> 
> Also, I have more free time than I used to (as I'm sure many of us do now) and I'm getting curious about the books. I've heard some mixed things though, so anyone who's read them want to chime in with if it's worth it?


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! While I feel like my natural inclination is just pure fluff, plot does have to happen now and then, right? The fluff can pick back up after that.
> 
> Are you ready?

They’d nearly crossed into Termeria when Geralt stopped short and Roach stopped with him as he pulled on her reins. “Something’s not right.” His free hand briefly went up to where his medallion hung around his throat. “Might be magic.”

Almost as if rehearsed, the three of them closed ranks around Fiona, getting her between them and Roach and away from possible prying eyes. Jaskier shifted his lute behind his back, keeping his hands near his daggers and the sword Geralt made him carry now. “Anything more specific, dearheart?”

There was a pause; Yennefer looked over her shoulder to see Geralt shake his head.

“Then what is it?” Yennefer looked around, not wanting to draw on the reserves she’d gathered yet in case they were due for a fight. A false alarm was unlikely, but if it was magic surely they’d strike by now—

“Hello, Yenna.” All of them turned to the voice behind them, closest to Yennefer.

“Istredd.” Yennefer made a show of outwardly relaxing her posture while internally keeping her guard fully up. “What brings you this far north? I thought you were content where Nilfgaard had you digging up hillsides.” She could tell the others tensed at the mention of Nilfgaard; good.

“I’ve come to you.” He stepped slightly closer, but stopped when Geralt shifted, his drawn sword glinting in the light. Istredd frowned. “I’d hoped to talk peacefully; could you call off the guard dog?”

“If you were with Nilfgaard, I think we have a right to doubt your intentions.” She could hear Jaskier breaking out his disarming smile, even if he had yet to draw an actual weapon. “We haven’t exactly been on friendly terms with them; did they send a mage because they got tired of us killing their scouts?”

Yennefer smirked, encouraged by his boldness. “If they really wanted the job done, they should have sent Fringilla. Even you could take Istredd here in a fight, bard.”

Jaskier laughed. “Love it when your compliments are actually insulting everyone involved.”

“I wasn’t sent here to fight.” Istredd continued as if Jaskier hadn’t spoken. “True, I’m a mage, but we all know that I have a much better relationship with you than you have with Fringilla.”

“Does that good relationship include when you sold out my secrets to Stregobor?” Yennefer kept her eyes on Istredd, but heard Geralt tense behind her at the mention of the older mage.

“As if you weren’t reporting back to Tissaia at the same time.” Istredd, possibly emboldened by their lack of action so far, stepped closer.

“Not the same.” Yennefer crossed her arms. “I reported to her on the magic we discussed. You told Stregobor personal information that I shared in confidence, and he used it to undermine me.”

“Funny how despite that you seemed content enough to seek me out not too long ago.” He didn’t move closer, but he did look smug. “Years of pushing me away, then you came back to me.”

“Well I’ve come to my senses since then, and gotten better company.” She shifted, keeping Fiona hidden from view.

Istredd raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A witcher and a bard? You could do better.”

Jaskier snorted. “If you think you can tell Yennefer who she’s supposed to be with, you clearly don’t know her all that well.” He turned to face Istredd, not breaking formation from around Fiona. “Despite your clear ego, nothing you’ve done so far suggests you even come close to deserving her though.”

Istredd rolled his eyes. “Shut up, bard.”

“You don’t get to tell him that.” Geralt shifted, and Yennefer could tell he was uneasy from the lingering threat with no clear action yet.

So best to cut to the point. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to find out about my current affairs, Istredd. What do you want?” She stared him down, hoping to convey how short her patience was.

“I’m here for the girl.” They closed in tighter around her and he tracked the movement with his eyes. “We don’t need the rest of you, although if you promise not to interfere you’re welcome to come too.”

“Really wish you lot would just stop interfering.” Jaskier’s snark was almost a comfort, even if it felt like he was trying to use it intentionally to rile up Istredd.

It was working, amusingly enough. “These matters are far beyond your comprehension, you simpleton.”

“Top of my class at Oxenfurt, actually.” Jaskier smirked. “Or do you only consider schools that do magic when doing your accounting of intelligence?” Fiona laughed quietly behind them; good to keep her relaxed since her magic was still not nearly controlled enough to not risk harming them, even with the impromptu lessons Yennefer had started.

“Wouldn’t keep me from changing you into a less annoying form.” Istredd shifted, not quite glaring at Jaskier but close. “What about a songbird? Could be fitting.” 

“All the better to peck your eyes out.” Jaskier scoffed. “But really, I survived a direct attack from a djinn thanks to these two. You really think you could do worse than that before I could stop you?” Out of the corner of her eye, Yennefer saw him turn to Geralt. “What’s best on mages, silver or steel?”

“Dimeritium, if you have it.” Geralt’s voice was low, his focus still on Istredd. “Interferes with all magic, stronger effect on those who use more magic.”

“Excellent.” She could hear the interest in Jaskier’s voice. “Do we have any?”

“No.” Geralt didn’t bother to elaborate, but Yennefer wondered if it would interfere with his own magic. Perhaps if mages would be a threat in the future Jaskier could carry some since he’d be the one person completely unaffected…

“Why even mention it then?” Jaskier sighed.

Istredd looked bemused. “Are you done?”

“You could use silver or steel.” Yennefer watched Istredd, feeling how Jaskier shifted behind her, likely grabbing at his daggers. “Mages aren’t too different than humans really. A stab wound is a stab wound.”

“Good to know.” From how he moved behind her, it seemed that he had drawn both.

“This isn’t working.” Istredd’s expression shifted, impatience showing through. “Still, because of our history, Yenna, and to show we mean you no ill will, I’ll give you another chance to do this the nice way.”

“That was nice? I’d hate to see what it would look like if you were actually trying to be a dick then. But if you were so bad at being nice, maybe the reverse would be true too.” Jaskier’s shoulder brushed hers as they closed in, further blocking off Fiona.

“Jaskier, shut up.” Geralt was looking around. “Yen, do you remember what I told you about winter?”

“Yes.” Yennefer didn’t think the name of what she assumed Geralt was referencing in case Istredd was reading her thoughts, although she didn’t feel his presence in her mind. She knew where Geralt was talking about, but she’d have to see if she had the ability to get all of them there. She’d been regaining her strength, but…

“Oh, Yenna.” There was an almost condescending note to Istredd’s voice now. “Don’t you remember who first taught you about portals?”

She sneered. “Myself, when I generated one on my own my very first time manipulating chaos.”

“I remember you then, the scared, humpbacked girl you were. Still so much awe.” His gaze had softened with nostalgia, but sharpened again. “I remember telling you how easily your portals could be tracked.”

“Shame Ban Ard doesn’t do transformations; you could have used a better spine as well.” Yennefer checked her connection to chaos; she might have just enough strength to do this…

Istredd’s face pinched, but she could hear Jaskier laugh. “Gods, I love you, darling.”

For an odd moment, everything went still. Finally, Yennefer spoke. “Is that the first time you’ve told me that?”

“The bard?” Istredd’s voice sounded incredulous. “Really, Yenna?”

“Shut up.” She heard Geralt shift behind her. “How come you’ve never said it to me?”

“Okay, that just shows that in twenty-plus years you’ve never actually listened to what I’m saying.” Jaskier’s voice was exasperated. “And the songs Geralt, good gods.” 

Despite herself, Yennefer smirked. “ _I’m weak my love,/ and I am wanting_?”

“How did I never know you have a lovely singing voice; is there anything you can’t do? But to be fair, he probably hasn’t heard that one.” Jaskier sighed. “Not sure it’s necessary for him to, really.”

“I know this is important, but shouldn’t we be focused on other things now?” Fiona’s quiet voice came from where she was sheltered between them and Roach, who made a noise of agreement.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quiet enough. “Princess Cirilla.” Istredd’s voice shifted at the confirmation that she was there, and Yennefer internally cursed. “Or is it Fiona these days? It doesn’t matter. If you come with us, we’ll leave them unharmed. It will be a sign that we bear you no ill will.”

“She’s not going with you.” Geralt’s voice was practically a growl.

“If you meant me no ill will, you shouldn’t have killed my family and destroyed my home!” As Fiona’s voice rose there was a shift in the air. “I won’t go with you!”

Istredd sighed. “Shame we couldn’t do this the easy way.” He gestured with his hands and Yennefer felt the magic in the air, and then at least a dozen Nilfgaardian soldiers came through the trees, surrounding them.

“Bollocks.” Jaskier shifted, no doubt looking around them as well. “Who’s got a plan?”

“I do.” Fiona’s voice was low, and Yennefer could almost feel the simmering energy around her.

“Ciri, no.” She heard Geralt shift, possibly to partially face his Child Surprise without taking his eyes off the soldiers who had yet to move.

“Trust me.” Fiona shifted behind them. “And be ready to get down.”

Yennefer nodded. “After whatever she does, grab onto me.”

“There’s no use plotting.” Istredd and the soldiers were probably too far back to hear their whispering this time, but the soldiers drew their swords.

“You’re here for me?” Fiona shifted, putting a foot onto Roach’s stirrups and pulling herself up, balancing with her hands on the saddle and towering above even Geralt. “Here I am. I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, daughter of Pavetta and granddaughter of Calanthe, the Lion Cub of Cintra and the Child Surprise of the White Wolf. I am not afraid.”

“This is going to be the greatest song that I’ll never be able to perform.” Jaskier’s voice sounded awed.

Fiona kicked at their backs with her free foot, and as one they ducked, Geralt pulling on Roach’s reins to lower her head as Fiona shrieked and the chaos flowed through her, the winds and sound knocking back the soldiers and Istredd.

Yennefer shielded her face, realizing it was unnecessary as Geralt had projected a sign above them to shield them from Fiona’s magic. Through it, Yennefer watched as Istredd resisted for a moment, but ultimately collapsed with the rest of the Nilfgaardian soldiers. “Now! Grab onto me!” She waited until she felt all three of them lay hands on her, holding tight, then reached out to grab Roach’s leg.

Yennefer reached deep within herself, where she felt her connection to chaos, and drew on it, making the world shift around them and holding the destination in her mind until—

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why I always end up leaving cliffhangers over the weekend, but that seems to be how it shakes out.
> 
> Also, I don't really have anything against Istredd (tbh sometimes it feels like his and Yennefer's relationship got better development than her relationship with Geralt, but they did also have more episodes together so maybe it's just that), but he also chose Stregobor over Yennefer so clearly he is not good at picking his influences. (This is mostly joking; I know he was getting just as manipulated as Yennefer was then).
> 
> Anyways, bonus points to whoever picks out the moment I decided Jaskier could be a little feral, as a treat.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the last update of August everyone! Do you think Yennefer was able to get them to safety? Hopefully the suspense wasn't too much for you over the weekend. Well if it was, have no worries cuz you'll find out soon!

Jaskier wasn’t sure how he stayed conscious (or if he had, truly) as the world shifted around them; all he knew was that one moment they were in the forest surrounded by the lingering vestiges of Ciri’s magic and unmoving Nilfgaardian soldiers, and now they were in some sort of…courtyard? Of a crumbling keep, perhaps in the mountains? He groaned, hearing shifting behind him.

He turned to see Geralt now standing and checking over Roach, who was somehow still standing.

“Wow Geralt. Glad to see where your priorities lie.” Jaskier sat up, looking at Ciri, who was breathing heavily but appeared unharmed, and Yennefer, who was wiping blood from her nose.

“You can check yourselves over. She can’t.” Geralt was carefully feeling over Roach’s legs. 

“I wouldn’t let harm come to your horse; I know how important she is to you.” Yennefer had wiped the blood off onto her hands, and looked at them a moment before sighing and wiping them on the cloak she wore.

“What’s going on?” Jaskier turned sharply at the new voices, seeing three large men with swords drawn advancing on them.

Well this was the last thing they needed. Everyone else otherwise occupied and possibly magically drained, Jaskier drew his sword, even if he wasn’t quite able to stand yet. “Get back.”

They kept coming, now only a few steps from striking distance. Jaskier adjusted his grip on the sword.

“Stop; they’re with me.” Geralt’s voice rang through the courtyard and Jaskier wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to, although everyone stilled as he stepped around Roach.

“Geralt?” The man in the front lowered his sword slightly, but didn’t sheath it. He was close enough now for Jaskier to see that half of his face was marked by prominent scars. “Why does the whole courtyard reek of magic?”

“That would be me, most likely.” Yennefer stood, and Jaskier noticed she put herself between the newcomers and Ciri. “You try safely transporting four people, a horse, and all of their belongings in the least traceable portal possible without drawing on considerable chaos.”

They seemed to pause and consider that, and they were close enough now for Jaskier to make out their features more clearly. They all looked different, but carried themselves similarly. Plus the scars, and—

“Those eyes!” Jaskier attempted to stand but found his legs weren’t quite up to the task yet. “You must be the other witchers Geralt somehow never told me about in over twenty years.”

“Really Geralt?” The youngest looking witcher pouted exaggeratedly. “That hurts.”

Geralt snorted. “Nothing worth mentioning about you, Lambert.”

He scoffed indignantly, while the scarred witcher laughed. The middle-aged-looking witcher (and how ancient must a witcher be to start to look old?) just watched them warily.

Geralt shifted his focus to the old witcher. “Vesemir. It isn’t safe for them anywhere else; can they stay for winter?”

Vesemir, apparently, seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding. “Someone will need to get more supplies. But we’ll have even numbers for training.” He looked over them appraisingly. “Three witchers, three non-witchers.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, preparing to object, but Geralt stopped next to him and pulled him to his feet, leveling him with a stern look that contrasted with how his hand lingered on Jaskier’s lower back for a moment. “Don’t argue with Vesemir.”

“Fine.” Jaskier looked over the other witchers, initially to imagine what sparring would be like but then finding his mind going in a decidedly different direction. He glanced at Geralt. “You know, perhaps it’s best you never brought me here as a young man, because if I knew all witchers looked like gods and was stuck in a keep with you all winter—”

Yennefer slapped the back of his head. “Control yourself before I control you, bard.”

Jaskier smirked. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Violet eyes sparkled. “Might be both.”

“Ugh, it’s getting worse.” Lambert made a face, ignoring how the scarred witcher slapped his arm. “Geralt, that bard’s going to make the whole place reek of lust all winter, isn’t he?”

“What?” Jaskier looked between them. Witchers could smell—

“What do you mean?” Geralt looked confused, but perhaps in an overly innocent way. “Jaskier always smells like that.”

“Melitele’s wonderous tits.” Jaskier buried his head in his hands. “Can someone tell me where the tallest tower in this keep is, so that I might throw Geralt off of it? 

Yennefer smacked him again, but there was surprised laughter in her voice. “Don’t murder Geralt.”

Geralt eyed him appraisingly, with a hint of humor. “He couldn’t do it anyways.”

Jaskier smirked back. “Still underestimating me?”

“We can save this for sparring I bet, and hopefully skip the murder.” Jaskier glanced behind himself at Ciri, who looked only somewhat amused. It seemed that out of habit they’d closed ranks in front of her, and Jaskier almost forgot she was there.

He turned to her with a smile. “I was just being dramatic, I promise.” He smirked. “If I were ever insufficiently so, Oxenfurt may revoke my degree, or at least my standing teaching position.”

“Your what?” Geralt looked confused again.

Jaskier turned back to him, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands again. “Gods you’re oblivious. It’s a good thing you’re attractive.”

Yennefer laughed at that as Geralt bristled. He glared at her over Jaskier’s shoulder. “He wasn’t this snarky before. You’re a bad influence on him.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I’m a 41-year-old man, Geralt. I can pick my own influences.”

Before they could discuss it further, the scarred witcher whose name Jaskier still didn’t know cleared his throat. “Geralt, we could use some introductions.”

“Right.” Geralt pointed at each of the witchers in turn. “Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert.” He turned back to their group. “This is Jaskier, my bard—”

“My bard now.” Yennefer smirked.

Jaskier threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why must I be someone’s bard? Why can’t I just be a bard, or my own bard?”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow. “Whose stories do you tell with your songs?”

“I’m there in many of them.” Jaskier scoffed. “In _Toss a Coin_ , I even mention myself before I mention Geralt!”

“It’s more about me though.” Geralt’s expression was serious, but there was that look in his eyes that Jaskier knew meant he was teasing.

“You were the first to hear that song and you’ve been hearing it for over twenty years, but I’ll still sing it to refresh your memory now.” Jaskier smiled. “I’ve avoided singing it over the past year, but what’s a more appropriate venue? _When a humble bard_ —me,” Jaskier pointed at himself, _“Graced a ride along / with Geralt of Rivia_ —you,” he pointed at Geralt.

“We all know who he is.” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “The real question is if “humble” ever accurately described you, Jaskier.”

Despite himself, Jaskier’s mind drifted back to when he wrote the song, surviving off of the food people threw at him and trying desperately to find something to sing about that wouldn’t get him thrown out of taverns, something to show becoming a bard was actually worth it. He’d come a long way, and he didn’t want to ever go back. He covered his pause with a smirk. “Had to say something to get the rhythm to work, darling. Besides, people love an underdog, and since Geralt wasn’t loveable yet in the public eye, why not me?”

Yennefer still looked unimpressed, but she turned to the other witchers. “I’m Yennefer of Vengerburg. You’ll be hearing about me in Jaskier’s newer, better songs.”

To Jaskier’s surprise, their focus was still on him, not Yennefer. The scarred witcher—Eskel, that was his name—spoke. “You really wrote _Toss a Coin to Your Witcher?_ And presumably all the other songs about witchers?”

“Yes.” Jaskier stood a little straighter, unsure what to expect.

“It’s helped.” There was a smile on his face that looked genuine before it shifted to something more mischievous. “And I’m guessing Geralt never thanked you?”

“Well…” Jaskier trailed off, debating how much he should tease Geralt in front of everyone. Or how much more, perhaps. He’d already done some… “Not in words. But he has other ways.”

Geralt cleared his throat, not looking at Jaskier even though Jaskier was sure Geralt would have noticed his soft expression. “There’s still one more introduction.” He shifted slightly so Ciri wasn’t hidden from view anymore. “This is Fi—”

“Ciri.” She spoke her name confidently, unfazed by their surprised expressions. “Nilfgaard has taken too much from me already; I won’t let them take my name any longer.”

“Alright.” Geralt turned back to the other witchers, and Jaskier swore he saw something like pride in Geralt’s expression. “This is Ciri, my child surprise.”

Jaskier swore he’d seen a momentary freeze from Eskel at the mention of child surprise, so quick that someone less well versed in witchers might have missed it, but Vesemir just nodded. “Your room is ready, Geralt. How many others will we need?”

Tempted as he was to make a comment, Jaskier just turned to Geralt expectantly, and he was sure Yennefer was doing the same on his other side. They’d talked about what things would be like between them, sure, but not what they’d tell the others when they reached the keep. Jaskier wasn’t sure how well they’d be able to hide everything from a keep of witchers (well, he knew how to keep secrets from Geralt, but that wouldn’t necessarily apply to all of them), but that didn’t mean Geralt would want to tell the people who were basically his family right away. Jaskier certainly knew how much Geralt liked privacy.

So when Geralt spoke, it almost surprised him. “Just one extra room, for Ciri. Jaskier and Yennefer will be with me.”

Lambert and Eskel exchanged a look at that, but as much as the former looked like he was going to comment he stopped when Vesemir nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get everyone settled so we can work out the chore rotations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I can admit to having limited familiarity with the other witchers, but also who knows what they'll be like in the Netflix adaptation anyways since Geralt is different from the books and games already. They have already announced that the other witchers will show up next season though, and I don't know if you've kept up with casting but they did cast some attractive people.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy first update of September! It seems I may have undersold how hot the other witchers are, but inspiring a wave of thirst for witchers once everyone looked up pictures made me feel more like Jaskier than anything else has. Anyways, remember how I said maybe 26 chapters? I'm now thinking 30. I'll know for sure once the story feels finished though, and update the final count then. For now, who's going to complain about a few chapters of largely domestic mostly shenanigans? If you would, you're in the wrong place cuz I'm such a fluff writer by nature. Anyways, enjoy!

Jaskier flopped down on the large bed, staring at the ceiling while Yennefer and Geralt moved around the room settling their things. “Damn Geralt, the bed is certainly larger and nicer than I’d expect.” He sat up on his elbows. “You usually have this all to yourself?”

“You’re the first people I’ve invited here.” Geralt replied, picking up on the question Jaskier hadn’t asked. He seemed more relaxed than Jaskier could remember seeing him for a long time, maybe ever. “It’s not like I’d normally get much luxury, so why not enjoy it while I can?”

Yennefer sat next to Jaskier on the bed, feeling it with an expression that was almost impressed. “It’s nearly up to my standards.”

Jaskier looked around. “I don’t even see anywhere for weapons on the bed, which is unusual for you. What happened to the witcher philosophy of being ready to hurt before you get hurt? Which someone honestly should have told you doesn’t apply to emotional matters, really.”

Yennefer smacked his arm as Geralt went still, so Jaskier made an apologetic gesture. Geralt really had been trying to do better since they’d all talked, but they were fighting against things that had been engrained in him since before Jaskier was born, before even Yennefer was born maybe. Still, after a moment Geralt relaxed once more. “It’s safe here. The only fighting’s during training.”

“Which I still don’t think I need to be a part of.” Jaskier sat up a little more. “I mean really, I’ll be the only one there with no magic. That hardly seems fair.”

“Shut up.” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You can wander off and do something else while we do magic, and you’re always complaining that everyone underestimates your fighting skills. Now’s the time to prove it, or improve.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Plus, you’re not as dainty as you act.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier felt his eyebrows climb as he sat up fully to face Yennefer.

“I’ve seen through the act, Jaskier, or perhaps you’ve shown me.” A hint of softness had entered her expression, although it was mostly exasperation and sarcasm still. “You’re nearly as tall as Geralt, and leaner but still decently muscular. All the well-tailored outfits and carefully cultivated gestures only go so far when I’ve already seen you naked.”

Jaskier was going to make a comment about how he was never sure if she was complimenting him or not, but he was distracted by an odd noise from Geralt.

The witcher was still moving around the room, but now seemed particularly focused on the fireplace. Jaskier shifted to the end of the bed, reaching for him. “Hey.” He took Geralt’s face in his hands when he drew near, pulling him in for a kiss and still relishing the feeling after wanting to do it for so long. “It’ll be your turn soon enough, dearheart.” He pulled away with a soft smile and dropped back onto the bed, sighing happily. “This will certainly be different than my usual winters.”

Geralt must have finished with what he was doing (or, if Jaskier was thinking highly of himself, been just as distracted by the kiss) because he lingered by the bed. “What do you normally do? I know we usually meet along the Pontar, but you don’t always talk about what you did for winter.”

“That’s because whatever I’d do with you would normally be more exciting.” Jaskier sat up again. “I do enjoy teaching at Oxenfurt, but most students still have a ways to go. So by the time I’ve followed the river and found you in spring, I’d rather think of that.” He sat back on his hands. “A winter away from Oxenfurt may be good for me; I’m sure I’ll get plenty of material for new songs, and I won’t have to wonder if the increasing number of students claiming to be my bastard children are lying or not.”

Violet eyes were boring into the side of his head. “You don’t know?”

Jaskier turned to face her. “I mean, for some there’s clearly no resemblance, or the age and where they’re from simply does not line up, but others…” He shrugged.

“He’s had sex with many people all over the Continent for over two decades, and that’s only what I know of.” Jaskier directed a glare at Geralt’s unnecessary commentary. “I’ve certainly had to fend off enough angry family members and partners.”

“Well I had to do something to work through the sexual frustration of traveling with Geralt and believing my advances would be unwanted, and it turns out sex with other attractive people was a great way to do it.” He turned to Yennefer with a smirk. “I mean really Yennefer, do you think I was born knowing some of those things?”

She tipped her head, considering, before her expression soured again. “Still, I can’t believe you don’t know whether or not you’ve left bastard children scattered about the Continent. How can you be so…reproductively reckless?”

If Jaskier hadn’t already known this was a sensitive topic, Geralt tensing once more would have given it away. He decided to proceed with caution. “Me and whoever I’m with do take precautions, to whatever our comfort level may be.”

“Still.” Yennefer was looking a bit judgmental.

Jaskier wasn’t quite sure what prompted what came out of his mouth next. “Don’t look at me like that; I know we’ve landed on a sensitive topic but it’s not like I could just give you my ability to have children.”

“Hmm.” Yennefer’s expression shifted to something thoughtful. “I’m not sure if I’ve tried that, actually.”

“No.” They both looked to where Geralt stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I’m good at what I do, Geralt, and if Jaskier’s willing maybe we could try this. If it goes wrong, it’s not like we need his cock. He’s plenty talented with other parts of his body.”

Jaskier winced. “I am rather attached to it, but she does have a point.”

Geralt’s expression didn’t soften, but shifted to the face he made when he was trying carefully to pick his words. “No… magical experimentation on people’s bodies in my room.” He took a deep breath. “There’s been too much in this keep already.”

“Ah.” Jaskier shared a guilty look with Yennefer. Geralt didn’t talk about many things, but there were few things he avoided more than talking about becoming a witcher. Even if he sometimes fancied himself the leading human expert on witchers, there was still a lot Jaskier didn’t know, and he assumed none of it was good. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“We won’t do it.” Apologetic was a rare expression for Yennefer, but it felt genuine.

“Good.” Geralt uncrossed his arms and stepped away from them. “It’s probably nearly supper; we should get Ciri.”

Unsure how to proceed, Jaskier and Yennefer followed him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have we reached a point where I'm filling out the story by stuffing it with headcannons and allusions to other things in the fandom? Maybe. But to be fair, this fandom is full of some great stuff so why not?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30 is more resistant to being written than expected, but I do still think that may be our end point. So enjoy these last few chapters!

Ciri’s room was nearby; Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was a function of there being so few fully intact rooms at the keep or if it was Vesemir picking up on Geralt not wanting to let her get too far away.

How things had changed since that night Geralt had claimed the law of surprise then left with barely a goodbye.

They found Ciri in her room, or at least the one that would be hers for the winter. Would it be safe for any of them to leave come spring? They’d need to find a way to get information on the war, for all of their safety. Were they just supposed to hide here til it was over?

While she hadn’t had much to unpack, just whatever supplies she’d picked up on the road, they found her still in her blue cloak, staring at a wall. Jaskier wondered if she could see the ghosts that probably haunted this whole place.

Yennefer was the one to push into the room. “Fiona?”

“Ciri.” It seemed to be enough to snap her out of whatever state she was in, because she turned to look at them.

“Right, sorry.” Yennefer chewed her lip a moment. “Ciri.”

“It’s ok.” She smiled weakly. “Better to call me the false name when it’s safe than the real name when it’s not.”

“It is safe here.” Geralt lingered by Jaskier in the doorway. “We’re in the far north of the Continent, away from Nilfgaard’s reach, and I think most believe the keep was abandoned after it was sacked. Besides, no one wonders where witchers go when we disappear for the winter, if they even notice.”

“I did.” Jaskier smiled. "I remember asking you incessantly in the early years."

Geralt rolled his eyes. “And I told you.”

“Eventually.” He smiled at the familiarity of teasing Geralt again. “And as always, you were stingy with the details.”

“And yet, here you are.” He didn’t realize how much he’d missed that teasing light in Geralt’s eyes.

“I suppose we can work on magic while they’re busy sorting out over two decades of not acting on that.” They both turned to Yennefer, who was now sitting beside an amused looking Ciri. She turned back to them. “Let’s not forget who actually got us here.”

“We’re very grateful.” Jaskier smiled at her. “But, I have three new witchers to bother; I need to get back into practice.”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “You think you can get out of practice of being irritating?”

“Practice is required for mastery of all things, darling.” He smiled at her. “It’s a delicate balance, bothering a witcher just enough that they think telling you something is the best way to get you to stop bothering them rather than just ignoring you or getting so annoyed that they try to force you to leave.”

Yennefer’s expression was unchanged as Geralt looked unimpressed and Ciri looked like she was trying not to laugh. “I refuse to believe you’ve put that much thought into it.”

He shrugged. “More of an art than a science, really.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “We’re all different anyways. Eskel might be more patient than me, but Lambert’s notoriously short tempered. And don’t bother Vesemir.”

“Oh come on.” Jaskier turned to Geralt fully. “He must have centuries of incredible stories. How old is he?”

“Hmm.” Geralt seemed lost in thought for a moment. “He was already swords master when Eskel and I were training nearly a century ago, and witchers had to prove themselves before they could train others.”

“Witchers can live for centuries?” Ciri’s voice rang with surprise.

Geralt nodded. “Among other effects, the mutagens slow aging. I’m just over a century old, and so is Eskel. Lambert is younger, but not by too much.”

“Magic helps with that too; mages can also live for centuries without aging.” Yennefer looked at Ciri appraisingly. “It’s partially a transformation we’re made to undergo though, so I wonder how your magic will affect you without that…interference.”

Jaskier looked around the room, feeling his fingertips rub together at his sides in a familiar nervous gesture. He hadn’t considered how much all of them might outlive him. Would he end up nothing more than a flicker compared to their vast lifespans? By generous estimates, he’d already lived half his years, maybe more. Would somewhere between twenty and sixty years matter in a life of centuries? Or would the reverse be true? Would he leave them behind to experience decades or centuries of mourning? He wasn’t sure what was worse. Jaskier didn’t want to be forgotten, but he also didn’t want those he loved to suffer. But barring something terrible, he would die before them. And then what?

“Stop that.” Yennefer’s stern voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked into violet eyes that seemed to be almost seeing through him. “You got too quiet and then got distressed, bard, and I skimmed your mind to see where it went.” Perhaps she had been seeing through him then. “You wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want you here, and you’ll be here a lot longer if we can help it.”

Her voice and Geralt’s hand lingering on his shoulder reassured him, and he smiled weakly. “Sorry about that. It’s just odd to think about.”

A storm was brewing behind violet eyes. “There are rumors of ways…”

Geralt glared. “None that typically leave the person unharmed. Magic always has a cost, either for the recipient or for someone else. Who would suffer for this?”

Jaskier nodded. “The pursuit of immortality has driven many a monarch and mage mad. I’d rather not we were added to those numbers.” He shrugged, shaking off the bad thoughts but regretting it when Geralt’s hand fell too. “Besides, they say all great art is about either sex or death. I’ve experienced plenty of the former, so it’s only fair that as an artist I experience the latter too.” He paused, patting down his doublet for his spare notebook and charcoal stick. “That’s a great line; if anyone asks, say that those were my last words.”

Yennefer glared. “You better write that down, because otherwise we may forget in the decades that should pass between now and your death.” The steel in her tone demanded her words be listened to, but Jaskier could hear the underlying emotion. 

He paused his hurried scribbling to smile at her. “Love you too, darling.” He looked to Geralt; if he hadn’t been direct enough before, may as well start now. “And I love you.” Finally, he turned to Ciri; they hadn’t truly known each other outside of his performances in Cintra for long, but... “You as well; there is definitely going to be at least one song about how you saved us earlier today because that was incredible.”

She ducked her head, hands fidgeting with her cloak again. “Thank you; I look forward to hearing it.”

“I’ll be sure to finish it soon; I doubt I could play it anywhere besides here without drawing far too much unwanted attention.” Jaskier smiled, then turned as Geralt stilled beside him. He looked at the witcher expectantly.

Geralt looked at the rest of them. “I smell food; let’s get downstairs for supper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's curious, the "all great art is about sex or death" concept comes from a cool Shakespeare professor I had in undergrad, but the rest of the line is just me writing Jaskier cuz he's poetic and dramatic like that. And also totally human in this story, although as some of you may have noticed this is part of a series cuz I already have ideas for a follow-up/sequel (technically I thought of that one first actually). So keep your eyes peeled for that once this is over! (I am thinking chapter 30)


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Not sure if you noticed, but this fic has a final chapter count now! I have officially finished writing this (although I will doubtlessly be tweaking each and every chapter until I hit post, cuz that's writing I guess)

Geralt made sure to keep to a reasonable pace as the others followed him down deeper into the keep to the small room beside the kitchen that may have once been storage but now served as a dining space. The dining hall that had been in use when he was in training was now far too large and destroyed; even with extra people likely making the usual room feel small it was better than the alternative.

He made sure that everyone followed him closely; while this part of the keep was relatively safe, many other parts weren’t. It wouldn’t do for one of them to get lost or hurt because he wasn’t careful.

Still, as Jaskier, Yennefer, and Ciri sat around the table with Vesemir, Lambert, and Eskel, Geralt felt something in himself settle further. Roach was safely in the stable with the other horses, and everyone who was important to him was together in the closest thing he had to a home. He felt…relaxed, in a way he hadn’t in a long time, maybe ever.

But it didn’t last too long. He reached out to grab Jaskier’s hand before he reached for a pitcher on a table. “Don’t.” Geralt took it instead and sniffed, confirming it was white gull. “That’s witcher-strength alcohol; it could probably kill you if you drank it.”

Jaskier nodded. “Alright then, I’ll add it to the list of things that witchers drink that are toxic to humans. Along with basically any potion in your saddlebags.”

Eskel looked between them. “He knows about your potions?”

“I know which ones are best when he’s been nearly killed again.” Jaskier shrugged. “We’ve traveled together for over twenty years; I’ve learned the basics about how to help.”

Geralt nodded. “I don’t let him touch anything else though; those just seem like the least toxic and least likely to kill him should he come into direct contact with them.” Jaskier had gotten surprisingly good at differentiating the potions Geralt allowed him to interact with; it had taken some time, but he was basically always right when he reached for a potion now.

“That makes sense, considering what’s in them.” Yennefer looked at Geralt; they’d talked some about what went into his potions, but he hadn’t showed her how to make them yet. It was still useful on the odd occasion when something she’d needed for a spell overlapped with what he’d need for a potion, and she’d give him the extra she had or vice versa. She looked around the room as the focus turned to her, and casually took a sip from a drink that Geralt was fairly sure hadn’t been on the table when they’d arrived. “What? It wasn’t purely flirting when I told Geralt I had a professional interest in witchers’ magic.”

“I don’t trust that.” Lambert crossed his arms, eyes narrowed.

Yennefer arched an eyebrow. “And why not?”

He glared. “Mages did this to us, mages helped destroy the keep, mages are probably more dangerous than us, but mages get to go to courts and be around people with no problems while we get rocks thrown at us.”

“You admit that mages are more dangerous than you, and you talk to me like that anyways?” Yennefer regarded him coolly.

“Yennefer.” Geralt kept his voice low, hoping she would hear the warning, and on the other side of the table he could hear Eskel doing the same with Lambert, but it was probably too quiet for the non-witchers to hear.

“What?” Lambert gestured vaguely towards Yennefer. “We’re just supposed to trust a random mage who’s apparently so interested in witchers just because she came with Geralt?”

“I wasn’t part of the group that did this to you, or the group that attacked you.” Yennefer crossed her arms. “I’m probably younger than you are; chances are I wasn’t even at Aretuza yet by the time that happened. And I don’t think highly of older mages any more than you seem to; they’re a horrid bunch that’re only out for themselves and any power they can grab. Believe me, they care as little for the young mages they take in as they probably did for you lot.”

That seemed to have eased some of the tension Lambert was carrying, but not all of it. “Still. You don’t know what it’s like to everyone hate you on sight, to think you’re a monster and try to throw you out or treat you like trash because of it. Pretty sorceress like you has probably never had a real problem in her life.”

Yennefer smiled, but there was no humor in it and Geralt almost expected his medallion to start to vibrate against his chest. “You know _nothing_ of my life. Did you ever consider why it is that every sorceress you see is so ‘pretty?’ The price we must pay for that beauty, or the price we’re told we’d pay if we weren’t? Have you ever stopped to think about anyone but your own arrogant, thick-skulled self?”

“Hey!” Lambert slammed his fists on the table. “You have no idea what _I’ve_ been through, you—" 

“Stop.” Everyone turned to Vesemir, who didn’t fully look up from his food. “Save the hostilities for training.”

Yennefer and Lambert didn’t look like they were ready to be done yet, but it seemed that they both knew better than to cross Vesemir, or at least to continue this in a confined space. A tense silence settled over the table as everyone ate.

Jaskier, naturally, broke the silence. “So, anyone got stories to share or are you all as silently stoic as Geralt? Could be interesting to write songs about other witchers.”

Eskel looked towards him, although Geralt noticed he kept the scarred side of his face away from the end of the table with Jaskier, Yennefer, and Ciri. “Could be interesting, but it’d have to wait. I’ll be going down the trail to get more supplies tomorrow.”

“That sounds interesting.” Jaskier perked up a little. “I could go with you.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head.

“Oh come on.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Is this still about me getting spotted by Nilfgaard? We’re in the Blue Mountains, Geralt. There’s no way they’ve got anyone this far north.”

“That’s not it.” Geralt looked at him, hoping Jaskier could see his honesty. “The trail’s deadly, even in the best of conditions.”

Eskel nodded. “With first snows already falling, it’ll be dangerous enough for a witcher with experience on the trail. For a non-witcher with no experience, it wouldn’t be good.”

“I would ask if there’s anything associated with witchers that isn’t also deadly or dangerous, but I think I already know the answer and I don’t like it.” Jaskier shook his head. “Anyways, I am capable of surviving dangerous situations. Really, just because I’m not a witcher or mage or somehow magical doesn’t mean I’m just some delicate little flower.”

Yennefer raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You literally named yourself buttercup.”

“Beside the point.” Jaskier ignored the quiet laughter from different parts of the table, although he did smile.

“Anyways.” Yennefer looked around the table. “I’m still fairly drained, but I’d like to offer to help reinforce the wards here. If I could portal in, others might be able to as well. The type of portal I used should have been untraceable, but we can never be too careful.”

Vesemir nodded. “Could be good. You’ll need to review what we have already; there should be something in the library.”

Jaskier perked up. “There’s a library here?”

“Yes.” Eskel nodded. “It’s mostly files and bestiaries, but there are some other things as well.” He looked at his plate. “The stories and poetry there aren’t bad.”

“I’ll be coming back to that later.” Jaskier looked at Eskel with renewed interest, but the witcher didn’t meet his eyes. “Anyways. This library sounds like it could be an interesting place to spend free time this winter.” Jaskier turned to Geralt expectantly.

Yennefer and Ciri were also watching Geralt, and despite himself he smiled a little. “I’ll show you there after we finish up here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so hard to find any consistent information on anyone's ages. Wikis don't have birth years, the "official" timeline contradicts the show, which contradicts what the showrunner says in the various making of documentaries Netflix has dropped, and all I wanted to know was if Yennefer was older than Lambert. (One source would make her older than Geralt, while others have her decades younger. At least I know Lambert's the youngest wolf witcher for sure). Anyways, remember how after the memes about mlm+wlw solidarity there were memes about mlm+wlw hostility, where instead of getting along it's just ready to fight 24/7? Somehow Yennefer and Lambert decided to be that while I was writing this, and while it'll make for an awkward winter that's where we're at I guess.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! The other witchers are fun and we will be getting back to them, but why not check back in with our core four for a little bit first?

Jaskier wandered through the not inconsiderable library at Kaer Morhen. True, it wasn’t large, and as Eskel had said it was mostly bestiaries. But still, even that could be interesting. He rounded a bookcase to look at where Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri were gathered near the hearth at the center of the room. “This place seems to be living up to its promise of an interesting way to spend free time this winter. Anything else you want to mention, dearheart?”

The witcher paused thoughtfully. “Maybe the hot springs.”

Jaskier sat himself on the arm of Geralt’s chair, resisting the urge to go for his lap only because he didn’t actually want to make Ciri too uncomfortable with displays of affection in front of her, and also because he wasn’t sure Geralt would be open to it. Still, he didn’t stop himself from draping an arm over Geralt’s shoulders and leaning against him. “Okay, so we’re definitely going there next.”

“In the meantime,” Jaskier looked to Yennefer as she started to speak, “we need to figure out what else we should be doing this winter. Training and helping around the keep are givens, but we’ll also need to figure out other tasks. We should also figure out what we’re doing for supplies; I imagine Geralt has clothes here, but I can’t be teaching magic, reinforcing wards, and making winter clothing for three people. I’d be too drained.”

“That’s good thinking.” Jaskier looked at his doublet. “As much as I love my clothing, late summer on a northern mountain last year already had me wishing I’d worn fur like you, darling. True winter up here will be cold.” He looked at Yennefer. “Although as you pointed out, I’m not far off Geralt’s height. The lack of color and tailoring may pain me, but I bet I could borrow some clothing from Geralt and the others here, which just leaves you and Ciri.”

“You can borrow from me; no need to bother the rest.” There was something in Geralt’s expression that Jaskier didn’t quite recognize but wanted to know more about, but it went away as he turned to where Yennefer sat with Ciri. “Would altering or repairing clothing be easier than creating it?”

Yennefer nodded. “Certainly.”

“Good.” Geralt looked between her and Ciri. “There may still be old clothing from the trainees here; it may not be in good shape at the moment, but it would fit you two better than anything of mine.”

“I can work with that.” Yennefer turned to Ciri. “Would that work for you?”

Ciri, who Jaskier had noticed seemed to be mostly quietly observing all night, nodded. “Probably better for training in than what I have now anyways.”

“That’s good thinking.” Jaskier nodded. “Besides, rule one of getting away from your formal upbringing and blending in on the roads is to change your clothing.” He shrugged (as much as possible while half-draped over Geralt) when the others looked at him. “What? I’ve realized that while you two are teaching Ciri magic and fighting, my contribution can be teaching her to hide her background. After all, neither of you guessed I came from nobility after knowing me for years, so I must be pretty skilled at this.” He laughed. “Funny how I’m the only one here with actual teaching experience, but I was going to be the one with nothing to teach.” He turned to Ciri. “Unless of course you’re particularly interested in the lute, musical composition, or poetry, which I’m more familiar with teaching.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Blending in seems like the most useful skill to teach, even if making it this far suggests she’s got some skills of her own.”

Ciri smiled slightly at that. “Still seems like it would be good to learn more though.” She looked at Jaskier, something like amusement in her eyes for the first time in a while. “And no offence, but it may be more useful than your other teaching options at the moment.”

“No, that makes sense.” Jaskier smiled at her before looking between Geralt and Yennefer. “Speaking of my ability to blend in, we still need a way to get information about the war to know when or if it’s safe for us to go anywhere. We probably can’t just spend the rest of our lives up here.”

He felt Geralt shift to look at him. “We’re not letting you go out there, Jaskier. Nilfgaard is already looking for you.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No one said I’d have to go far enough south for them to find me. I’m sure news of the war will be reaching the Northern Countries as well. Plus, if they’re looking for me, we can always make me not look like myself.” He turned to Yennefer. “Do you think you could make some object or article of clothing enchanted with a glamour charm? So it’d change my appearance while I wear it?”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “How do you know what a glamour is?”

“Really?” Jaskier resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “I’ve spent years splitting my time between traveling with a Witcher and working at university.” He’d also done some spy work for the Redanian government, but he wasn’t sure if this was the right time to bring that up. “Plenty of time and opportunity to pick up some knowledge. Why are you still surprised when I know things?”

“We don’t want you risking your life.” Geralt’s voice was soft.

Jaskier sighed. “There’s plenty of ways I could die. Wartime casualty, angry mob, disease, monster (bit surprised that one hasn’t happened actually), poison, many things. If I die protecting the rest of you, I’m not going to regret it.” Years of bardic training meant that Jaskier didn’t have to look at their faces to know the mood in the room was souring. “But I’m not going to! Because along with any skills I already have, I’ll be training with a witcher sword master who’s probably been handling a blade longer than some dynasties have reigned. Plus my evasion skills honed by running from jealous spouses and other disgruntled family members, my skills at disguise, my knowledge and strength earned from decades of traveling the continent on foot, whatever magical protections you lot are sure to come up with, and my existing fighting skills that have already felled multiple Nilfgaardian soldiers.” Jaskier looked between the three others in the room; they didn’t seem all that cheered up. “I’m not saying we have to do it now, I’m just saying we should consider it. Couldn’t do it until Yennefer has regained enough strength to enchant something and then portal me around the Continent anyways, or until Ciri gains enough control to do so.”

“And what’ll you do in the meantime?” Yennefer crossed her arms.

“I dunno.” Jaskier shrugged, slumping further against Geralt. “Train. Help out. Do whatever nighttime activities the three of us choose to engage in. Maybe read a bestiary or two.”

Geralt snorted. “Maybe then your songs will be accurate in their descriptions.”

“As long as the books provide more detail than you—which isn’t hard to do, really—I should be able to do just that.” Jaskier smiled at Geralt. “What else is there to do around here? You can’t spend all winter working, even if you are a witcher.”

Geralt shrugged, the movement jostling Jaskier slightly. “Get drunk. Play Gwent. What else do you need?”

“Music, perhaps.” Jaskier smiled. “I guess I get to be the best damn bard this keep has ever seen now.”

“A low bar, when I bet there’s never been a bard here before.” Yennefer’s slight smile was at odds with her words, but Jaskier smiled anyways.

“It still counts.” Jaskier looked around, deciding that they would have the rest of winter to explore here. He turned to Geralt. “So. Hot springs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're close to the end now! I've still got a climactic moment or two up my sleeves, so let's see if you can see where those are starting to come up...


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the second-to-last update, can you believe it? I might end up adding more to the series if some of my stray ideas for this insist on being written, but for now after this I'll probably start posting the "sequel" to this which is technically the first witcher fic I started writing but also still haven't finished cuz other ideas were more insistent. I'm close now though, so get ready for that!

Jaskier rolled his shoulders. It felt far too early to be awake. Now that he’d had a real bed to lie in, it was almost like he became more aware of every ache sleeping on bedrolls and lumpy inn beds for the last few weeks had left him with. The hot springs the previous night had been wonderous, but still between the travel and the magic of the previous day he, Geralt, and Yennefer had been too tired to get up to anything exciting the night before. All going to bed together without someone needing to leave to keep watch had been nice though. And they’d have plenty of time later in winter to do other things in that bed…

But today, they were doing a sword training session. Repairing the keep would also be a priority before true winter set in, but apparently Vesemir wanted to see their skill levels before they began. So here they were, lined up in the courtyard. Yennefer and Ciri were still dressed as they had been, but Jaskier was trying Geralt’s clothes for the first time. By height they were alright, but everything hung a bit loose. He’d needed to fashion a belt to help hold up the pants.

Jaskier looked at the others who were gathered in the courtyard; Ciri had that tired, distant look she’d seemed to have for much of the time since they’d arrived at the keep, Yennefer was in a gown and cloak but could probably kick his ass still, and Lambert, Vesemir, and Geralt were pulling out racks of what must have been training swords.

The scene set, Vesemir looked everyone over. “We need to determine sparring partners.”

“Geralt says Yennefer and I aren’t allowed to be sparring partners because we, according to him, don’t take it seriously.” Jaskier glanced at Yennefer. He’d enjoyed sparring with her, but—

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier tries to flirt during fights to distract his opponent—"

“Which works, or at least it did on you.” Jaskier couldn’t keep the smugness out of his voice.

“—and Yennefer decided the best way to handle that was to flirt back.” Geralt continued, ignoring the interruption.

“Which also worked.” Yennefer smirked at Jaskier. “You’re pitifully susceptible to your own technique, bard.”

“As I recall, darling, you seemed to enjoy flirting while crossing swords as much as I did.” Jaskier smiled.

“This is exactly what I mean.” Geralt shot them a look before turning to Vesemir. “They shouldn’t spar together, not if you want them to stay focused on fighting.” He pressed on, ignoring Jaskier’s insulted noise. “Also, I’d like you to look over an injury I got. I might stay out of the first round of sparring for that.”

Vesemir nodded. “With Eskel already gone for supplies and Geralt not participating this round, that leaves even numbers. Lambert with the mage, the bard with the girl, and Geralt with me.”

“Alright.” Jaskier moved with the others to the training racks, picking up two swords and giving one to Ciri. When they’d been practicing so far with Geralt, Ciri seemed like she didn’t have much training; perhaps for all that Calanthe had enjoyed a good fight she’d been trying to keep her granddaughter from it. Still, Ciri did seem to focus more with the sword in her hand.

He couldn’t help but notice that Lambert and Yennefer seemed to have taken last night’s advice to save it for training seriously; as soon as they were a good distance away, they began to fight furiously.

Jaskier, on the other hand, turned to Ciri, waiting for her to make the first move. After a moment, she charged, and he parried, moving backwards.

Even with her apparent inexperience, fighting Ciri took up most of Jaskier’s attention. She was a quick learner, and Geralt had been emphasizing how important learning to fight would be to her. Maybe Calanthe had done the same.

Still, his focus wasn’t so intense as to miss it when suddenly there were flames at the other sparring match. Jaskier tried to shift away, keeping both himself and Ciri closer to Geralt and Vesemir than to the clearly escalating fight between Lambert and Yennefer. Thankfully, Ciri seemed to be following his lead, or maybe she was just thinking the same as him.

But only a moment later Jaskier felt intense heat, and turned his head to see a plume of flame seemingly headed directly to him.

As much as time seemed to slow, Jaskier was certain he wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. He braced himself, hoping Yennefer would have enough power to heal him—

Something solid collided with him, and Jaskier felt his back hit the ground with something heavy atop him. But familiar somehow—

He opened his eyes to Geralt, one of his hands cushioned under Jaskier’s head and the other casting a sign above them to shield them from the flames. His white hair reflected the fire’s light, providing a dramatic effect that nearly made him glow.

Distantly, Jaskier was aware of the fire stopping, Vesemir asking what happened (with a bit more swearing than that), and Yennefer and Lambert arguing over who was to blame. But at the moment, what really commanded Jaskier’s attention was Geralt, still atop him, golden eyes shifting to Jaskier’s face with concern as he checked if he was alright.

Really, what was a bard to do BUT kiss his heroic protector?

He must have caught Geralt off guard with how easily Jaskier was able to pull his head down, so quick it nearly rattled his teeth as their faces collided. But oh, their lips were meeting, sliding together and then opening and Jaskier didn’t know how long he’d waited to learn the taste of adrenaline and Geralt but by the gods it was worth it; one hand tangled in snowy white hair and the other traveling down his back, his legs starting to move to wrap around Geralt and hold them together, just like this, as they deepened the kiss and Geralt’s hand behind his head shifted from cupping it to winding into Jaskier’s own hair—

Someone cleared their throat. And then again, louder.

The moment was broken, but Jaskier wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He felt Geralt start to pull away a little but only wound his hand tighter in white locks in retaliation; he had no idea how many times he’d wanted to kiss Geralt like this, but it was a high, high number.

And then another hand was in Geralt’s hair, yanking his head back until they had no choice to separate.

Yennefer didn’t release her hold on Geralt’s hair as she looked between the two of them. “Jaskier, are you ok?” Despite the amusement in her tone, he was sure he saw some concern in those violet eyes.

He took a deep breath, mentally checking over himself now that his heart rate was settling a bit. He’d be sore from that landing, but it was better than the alternative. And the hot springs could help with the soreness. “I’m fine, thanks to Geralt. Was doing better before you interrupted though.” With his hand still tangled in Geralt’s hair, he tried to pull Geralt back down.

Yennefer didn’t budge, and Geralt winced. “Can everyone please stop pulling my hair?”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t have so much fucking hair!” They turned to Lambert, who rolled his eyes. “Should just cut it.”

Jaskier tightened his hand in Geralt’s hair protectively. “He absolutely should not.” He reluctantly released his hand when Geralt winced again. Jaskier pouted at Yennefer, who still had a grip in Geralt’s hair, as he started to pull away. “Can’t we just have a moment to wrap this up?” 

Yennefer rolled her eyes, finally releasing Geralt’s hair now that he seemed to sitting up on his own. “We can pick it up again later, boys. For now, back to sparring practice?”

Jaskier dropped his head back to the courtyard stone, already missing Geralt’s hand there. “If you insist.” He accepted the hand up when Geralt stood first though, and took his training sword back from Ciri after she’d picked it up from…wherever.

Vesemir was looking over them all closely. “Time for new sparring partners.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Outtakes" from this chapter include Jaskier offering to braid everyone's hair (cuz I love that headcannon), Yennefer wearing pants, and Jaskier being distracted by Yennefer wearing pants (because apparently for much of western history women's legs were considered more scandalous than anything on the upper half because if you could see a woman's legs you'd think about what was between them, apparently, and I think that that's so ridiculous that I want to see Jaskier being that kind of dumbass). Anyways, who can guess what song from The Amazing Devil I was listening to while editing this chapter based on the snippet of lyrics that snuck in?


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe this is the last chapter already? I know I can't! But I already have the sequel of sorts planned, and I might end up writing some of the other snippets about their winter in Kaer Morhen and beyond if the time and inspiration is right. But for now, who's ready for the last chapter?
> 
> Ciri's been awfully quiet since they got to Kaer Morhen, hmm?
> 
> Also, brief warning in the end note (mildly spoilery)

It had been a good day, minus the incident that morning. Still, since that incident had led to a rather spectacular kiss with Geralt (or series of kisses perhaps; who was keeping count?), Jaskier supposed he couldn’t complain.

And they had made good on Yennefer’s promise to pick it up later on; Jaskier now happily filled the space between Geralt and Yennefer, all of them tangled together and just about ready to drift off, the candles in the room already extinguished.

Until Geralt tensed. “Ciri’s starting to have a nightmare.”

“Ugh, damn witcher hearing.” Jaskier paused, waking a little as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, could the others—”

“Temporary soundproofing spell.” Yennefer waved a hand lazily, not quite alert. “Magic is great, hmm?”

Geralt pulled away from them and moved to get out of bed. “It’s getting worse.”

“Alright, we’ll come with.” Jaskier sat up, fumbling around in the dark for the edge of the bed. “Should probably get dressed first.”

He and Yennefer clumsily grabbed clothing in the dark, sleepily making their way to where Geralt waited impatiently by the door. Damn witcher night vision giving him an advantage finding his clothes. 

As they crossed the corridor and neared Ciri’s room, Jaskier awoke further as he heard wind whistling through the stone of the keep. This was not good.

They had to fight against the wind as they neared Ciri’s room, grabbing each others’ hands so they wouldn’t be blown back.

Finally, they reached Ciri’s room, and Geralt threw the door open and pulled them inside.

They were pressed against the wall in mere moments.

Hovering above the bed and still deeply unconscious was Ciri, who seemed to be ethereally lit as the cyclone of wind whirled around her, out from her. There might have been some kind of chanting, maybe coming from Ciri herself, but Jaskier struggled to hear it over the howling wind of the room.

“Ciri!” Jaskier screamed, drawing on every ounce of his lungs, but it didn’t seem to reach her. “CIRI!” The wind whirled on, and Jaskier felt it nearly press the air from his lungs. He looked between Geralt and Yennefer. “I don’t think I can sing her out of this one!” His heart raced; were the stones starting to rattle loose?

“Geralt!” Yennefer somehow leaned past Jaskier to look at the witcher, raven hair whipping around her head. “Axii!”

“It won’t be enough!” Golden eyes never left Ciri.

“No!” Yennefer inched along the wall. “Together!” Her face screwed tight with concentration, she pushed past Jaskier, the wind seeming to carry her a moment—

Geralt caught her. There were twin looks of concentration on their faces and then their lips met, Geralt brought his hand up to form a sign and—

Calm flowed though Jaskier. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like maybe the wind was slowing. He looked towards Ciri, distantly noticing that the energy around her seemed to be dimming too. There was still wind though, and she still hovered.

“Jaskier, sing!” Geralt’s voice echoed, almost sounding like it was coming from in Jaskier’s head.

That was a good idea. Without even needing to summon the lyrics, the song Jaskier sung to calm Ciri was flowing past his lips, and it did seem to be helping too. Ciri was lowering, eventually reaching the bed.

Jaskier blinked his eyes as a fire started in the fireplace across the room. When did he get to the bed? He looked to Geralt and Yennefer, conscious of the sleeping teen behind him. “What was that?”

They almost looked guilty. “We may have discovered a way to…enhance. The effects of Geralt’s signs.” Yennefer looked around the room. “We hadn’t tried that one before.”

“Did you know I would be affected too?” His heartrate calming beyond the artificial calm of a moment ago, Jaskier took stock of himself. He seemed alright...

Geralt was avoiding his eyes. “Like she said, we hadn’t tried it before.”

“Okay.” Jaskier took a deep breath and nodded. “While I can’t say I’m entirely opposed to it, ask next time before using magic on me.”

They exchanged a look, but before anyone could say anything further they were distracted by a distressed sound from the bed behind Jaskier.

Ciri sat up, hands clenched at her sides. “It’s all my fault!”

“Ciri?” Jaskier was aware of the others coming to stand beside him as wild but unmistakably awake green eyes turned to them.

“It’s my fault.” Ciri’s chest heaved with heavy breaths bordering on sobs. “Cintra, my family, you—it’s all my fault.” Tears were flowing down her face, but she seemed no more aware of them than the words that were spilling from her mouth. “Nilfgaard was after me. It’s my fault. My home destroyed, my people slaughtered, my family dead, it’s—it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“No.” Geralt pushed past Jaskier, kneeling by Ciri’s bedside and carefully resting a hand on her knee. “None of this is your fault.”

“But they’re after me.” Wide green eyes turned to Geralt. “Maybe if—if I had gone to them, none of this would have happened. My people wouldn’t be forced out of their homes and starving or dead, the city and castle would still be standing, and Mousesack and my grandparents—“ Her words cut off with a choked off sob, and she flung herself into Geralt’s arms, her arms tight around his shoulders and her face tucked into his neck.

He seemed uncertain what to do, but eventually settled on rubbing his hands up and down her back. “Calanthe and Eist would have died rather than give you up.” The sobs only came harder, and Geralt winced. “They loved you, and cared about you. They would have wanted you to safe, no matter the cost. Mousesack too.”

More sobs came from somewhere deep within Ciri, wracking her small frame. “But my people, my country—”

“Shh.” Yennefer laid a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Some armies destroy for destruction’s sake, and some monarchs expand their empires just to show they can.” She squeezed Ciri’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “I can’t claim to know Nilfgaard’s intentions, but they seem to be after power above all else. I wouldn’t trust them with you. The people who have loved you would be happy that you’re safe. And everyone else…only Nilfgaard and their army is to blame.”

“But—but—“ Ciri’s words were barely intelligible for her sobs.

“It’s not your fault.” Jaskier laid a hand on Ciri’s free shoulder and crouched down to be on her eye level. “How long have you been holding this in? It’s ok to let it out, to find a channel to help you try to understand it all before it consumes you.”

Her green eyes were still tearful, but Ciri seemed more…present as she pulled away to sit up in bed. “But that’s not it. This…this power. I can’t control it. There was a point, when I was on the run, after Cintra…” She looked to her lap, not meeting their eyes. “Some boys I knew were…harassing me. I’d thought they were my friends but they were saying horrible things, and pushing me, and then….” She looked at the wall. “The next thing I knew was waking up the next morning, and the whole area had been flattened. The boys and the horse I’d stolen were thrown away, and I was in the center of it. Their bodies…” She swallowed roughly. “They were in trees, and torn apart.” She choked on another sob. “I can’t control this; maybe Dara’s right and I am a monster, like my grandmother.”

“No.” Geralt, still crouched on the floor by her bed, reached up and squeezed her shoulder. “I know monsters, and you are no monster.”

“But…” Ciri took another deep breath. “I can’t control this. What if I hurt you? What if it’s more than hurt?” She fisted her hands on the fabric in her lap. “I wish I could give this up.”

Yennefer smiled bitterly. “Be wary of wishes, and be careful what you give up when you’re young and don’t understand it’s value.” She took a breath and looked at Ciri, a little calmer. “And you can learn; you already are. You saved us from Nilfgaard already.”

“Once.” Wet green eyes looked between them. “How many times have I nearly hurt you in my sleep? What if I start to lose control when I’m awake too?”

“Then you’ll be seeing plenty of firsthand examples of what magic shielding looks like, and you can learn that.” When the joke fell flat, Jaskier stepped closer to the bed. “That’s where learning to channel what your feelings comes in. Everyone has to have some kind of outlet, something to calm them when it all gets to be too much, right? For me, unsurprisingly, it’s music and writing.” He looked to Geralt and Yennefer expectantly.

Geralt looked between him and Ciri. “Routine helps. Training. Mediation.”

Yennefer smirked. “I was told to bottle it all up, but turning a Nilfgaardian army to ash helped too. Maybe we can get you there as well.”

“Might be nice.” Ciri smiled weakly. “Might be nice to learn something not destructive too.”

Before any of them could say anything further, the door to the room burst open.

“What the fuck has been happening here?” Lambert and Vesemir came in, unarmed but clearly ready to fight. Lambert looked around them. “What, are you trying to take down what’s left of this damn keep?”

Geralt, not moving from Ciri’s bedside, glared at Lambert. “Thought you always said you didn’t care about this keep or anyone in it.”

Lambert faltered a moment, then glared back. “I’d care if it fell on my head.”

“It won’t.” Yennefer turned to them, crossing her arms. “We have the situation under control. Mostly.”

Not liking the guilt returning to Ciri’s face, Jaskier went for distraction. “What took you so long anyways? If you were so worried, I’d expect you here sooner.”

No one seemed happy for his input, but at least the focus was off of Ciri. “Couldn’t get past all the chaos in the air.” Vesemir looked between them, finally settling on Geralt. “What happened?”

Geralt shared a long look with Ciri, and then they must have reached some sort of agreement because he nodded, then stood and turned to face the other witchers. “Ciri has magic. It’s strong, but we’re helping her control it.”

“Couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?” Lambert stopped when Vesemir glared at him, then mumbled under his breath. “Geralt brings people and this happens. Next winter I’m bringing Aiden and no one gets to complain.”

Ignoring Lambert, Geralt stood to his full height and locked eyes with Vesemir. “I’d understand if you have reservations. But if you try to send anyone away, I’m going with them.”

They stared each other down, and Vesemir cursed under his breath in old-sounding words Jaskier didn’t recognize before looking at Geralt. “Still trying to be a damn knight.”

Geralt didn’t waver. “Some people are worth protecting, or saving, no matter the cost.”

Vesemir stared him down a moment longer, then sighed. “Be a shame to have sent Eskel down the path for nothing anyways.” He looked between them, the appraising look back in his eyes. “Everyone can stay. But we’re doubling down on training.”

“Thank you.” Geralt’s shoulders slumped the slightest fraction in relief.

Vesemir turned to leave the room. “Everyone get to sleep. It’ll be an early morning tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: use of axii (the witcher mind control-esque sign) this chapter because Ciri has an intense nightmare; Jaskier is also affected by the sign. And then Ciri's not in good shape when she wakes up, because trauma has a way of really sinking in once you're somewhere safe and not running on adrenaline and fearing for your life constantly.
> 
> Geralt and Yennefer doing the sign together is me attempting to figure out why they kiss mid-fight in episode 106; my theory is that if mages are considered "conduits of chaos," they somehow worked out a way for Yennefer to channel an increased flow of chaos into Geralt (by kissing, because of course), which allows him to do more powerful signs.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! This is a more open ending than I tend to go for, but Vesemir seems like the type to get the last word. Plus, the sequel continues to fight being written but I have enough of it that you should be able to expect weekly updates starting next week. You can subscribe to the series (or me, if you want occasional star trek as well) to get updates on that! Thanks for reading everybody!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates should be every Monday and Friday, so you'll see what becomes of our dear Bard, Mage, Princess, and Witcher (and horse) soon!


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